PZ3 

.0149 

F 







fl "A 


? - ° Y”^ “ r 'V<S» r 

W: *r^»- 


* 4 '°-^ ^ 

’ » jfe *. •* A’l " j 

=* A's " Jfe t j' 

't o cSj'To. « r <V^A "* 






a* O ^ 


\ O 


o C 

» Xf s>S®* 

o cP'^n o 

Af ^ 


*o^ff i I 

» A J 


«,* * * *Va 

^-v ? r 1 ^P ? 


9t^ >«■ -CP , 


'%. ° I »lf^ “ o % 

K, iM] >: :#; : 


° *'^ra* a5<^6 *^1^0 *< 




♦ * 


































* V 


.•V I 


♦ 

r 


.A, ,v, - , ■ '■ 

j ^i4r 'V ' ' . 


k % 

'V 


> t . • 


>.i 


f ‘v ■^:A.^ 

' • ^ • .^' ' / I I ' ^ ^ j 

' ;* ' . ■ -.V* • ‘ 





.' f 


I 


1 1 ' - 


.•I 


* < ' '. 
r ‘ 

I * 


' ‘ i\ 



<1 

I 

/ * ’ 


v>''\ 


• <t 



(•, . 


» * I 


♦ i 


m 


\ . 


I 



». • '. 

«!, I, * ,' 




. . . \ 
4 


N 




V* ''i yfl'’- ’T S* 

4 

» <T '‘r • j 




* *1 







I' . I 


■; A 


r.' 


v. 


t « 




% 

I MA 





< % 


i* $ 


t 


) 


\ • f > 

I 

« < 
‘■a!** il i 


t • 


1 • 


I , 

' ,| ‘ k ?V^ '■' i'.i'^v, 

•> '' '■ •!/»;■■''■•'> \^-^'4'i''/Y: ;,A''>v. ,'' 


•'■■‘••V, .. . -• ,,S . .; 





. if 


' V ■ ^.yi /* ' 


I 

'« » 




I 


. r'45’‘^^^ A ■ V- ' 


Hfw ■ ' r* ' 'y / 

\ # • 1^4 » 4 / / [•' 9 b'B »' ' k ^ 



. »an/ ,, .f; • ' A 

■? .; 'a'-A 



■'/ 1' 
-A. '-•I 




.tA';' 


' /.’f 


■i 


■ -• • tk fi 



THE FLIGHT 
- OF THE SHADOW. 


Sb 


/ 


Caura 2TI. Sake. 


THE EDITOR PUBLISHING OO., 

OIHOINNATI, O. 

1899 . 









35607 


Copyright 

Th* Editor Publishing Company 
1809. 

"wocopieb fiECt-tVfcO, 


Vof-ic. ,,.7 


WlJlBSj) )} 




THE FLIGHT SHADOW. 


The following '‘'‘Chronicles^'' I found 
among the effects of John Cecily a 
distant relative of mine^ who has long 
been dead. They read like a "Bo- 
mance in real lifef and may ^ perhaps, 
be as interesting to others as they have 
been to rwe, especially to the many who 
are fond of the occult. 

L. M. D. 

“Nay, let the souls throng round me, I am I 
And you are you; we should not vainly seek. 

Would you not hear, though faint and far the call? 
Nay, were we dust and had no life to speak. 

Our very atoms on the wind blown by 
Would meet and cling, whatever might befall.” 


Stuart Plantation, March, 1865. 

An accident has made me the guest 
of Mrs. Harold Stuart, whose planta- 
tion is on the Ashley, a few miles 
from Charleston. Although I am an 
involuntary inmate of her beautiful 


1 


THE FLIGHT 


home, I am accorded a cordial wel- 
come, she being an old school-mate 
and a very dear friend of my mother. 
I might as well record here that my 
name is John Cecil, age twenty-six, 
an officer in the U. S. army, and at 
present I am recovering from the 
effect of a fall from my horse, which 
occurred in this way : — 

After Sherman’s march to the sea, 
my regiment had been ordered to 
Charleston. On hearing this, my 
little mother, from the security of 
her northern home, wrote me in urgent 
terms to lose no time in going to her 
dearest Lucia — meaning Mrs. Stuart 
— and rendering any service that 
might be necessary during the troub- 
lous times that were sure to follow the 
downfall of the Confederacy, which 
now seems inevitable. 

Accordingly, accompanied by my 
orderly, one pleasant evening, I 
started on my mission. As I rode 
slowly along the highway, letting my 
thoughts go “wool-gathering,” an 


2 


OF THE SHADOW 


exclamation from my attendant sud- 
denly recalled me to myself. “Look, 
Captain,” he said, “look at that fire 
over yonder ! Guess some of our boys 
are reconstructing one of the na- 
tives ! ” 

“It appears to be in the locality of 
the Stuart plantation, Benson,” I 
replied; “let’s hurry on in case it is 
there.” 

As I spoke, I noticed a by-road that 
led in the direction of the blaze, and 
putting spurs to our horses we soon 
drew rein beneath the dense shadows 
of some huge trees that nearly 
enclosed a small clearing on the bank 
of the river, and became the unob- 
served spectators of an unusual scene. 

I wish I were an artist and could 
depict it here on this page as vividly 
as it stands out in my mind to-night! 

A tall, fair girl is standing on the 
trunk of a fallen tree; her fine form 
in its clinging white draperies is 
brought out in full relief against the 
dark background of the woods be3?ond. 


3 


THE FLIGHT 


as the flames leap and writhe their 
long, glaring tongues upward from a 
pile of burning cotton bales nearby, 
casting their ruddy glow upon her. 

A couple of brawny negro men, 
black as Erebus, were feeding the fire 
from a pile of lightwood-knots, and 
singing a weird refrain that had the 
effect of a Banshee’s wail. 

Nearby, stood a white-wooled old 
darkey, the impersonation of comical 
despair. 

Having failed to prevent his young 
mistress from carrying out her rash 
design of burning the cotton bales on 
the advent of the “Yankees,” he now 
seemed to derive much solid comfort 
in making plain to her the dire con- 
sequences sure to follow her folly. 

“I tells yer what’s de Gawd’s troof. 
Miss Dolly, honey, youall jess sho 
ter git our fambly inter tribberlation 
by yer carryins on ! Here, you boys, 
(to the two men) jess shet up dat 
racket, will yer? Fust thing youall 
knows, dem ‘Yankee’s’ is er gwine ter 
4 


OF THE SHADOW 


be down on us, den what we all gwine 
ter do? (To the girl) Yassem, Miss 
Dolly, no use er tellin’ me bouten you 
pa. Reckon I was the las’ one ob de 
fambly dat Mars Harold saw arter he 
rode off down de big road on he way 
ter de wah, an’ de las’ wurds he spoke 
ter meh, he say, ‘Now, Lime, you 
heah me ! Ef dem Yanks ebber git ter 
Char’ston, an’ dat cotton pile ain’t 
run outen de blockade, you jess tech 
her off. Miss Dolly ’ll tell yer when 
de tarn comes.’ ” 

“Then, Uncle Limos, if father 
ordered it — ” 

“Law, honey,” interrupted the old 
negro, “yore pa nebber b’lieve dem 
Yankee’s wuz gwine ter git heah. 
And den, jess stop an’ think how yore 
ma ’ud rar and tar ef she knowed 
what you wuz up to dis minit!” 

At this the girl laughed merrily. 
The long tongues of flame catching 
new life from a fresh supply of pitch- 
pine, leaped upward amidst show- 
ers of sparks and clouds of smoke; 


5 


THE FLIGHT 


the wind swayed the long, trailing 
hanks of grey moss that hung from 
the branches of the ancient trees, while 
the river, swollen by recent rains, 
could be heard rushing between its 
banks as it hurried seaward. The 
weird picture was lost on Uncle Idmos, 
who continued, in a dolorous voice, 
his prophesies of coming calamities. 

“You all kin laugh bouten yore ma. 
Miss Dolly, but she ain’t primin’ ter 
what dem Yankees is gwine ter be 
when dey fines out dat wealls done 
buhned up more’n er thousan’ bales 
er cottin what Mars Abe Linkum 
wanter git. I reckon deyall ul jess 
chain me ’n de boys up ter de stake an’ 
fiah up de pine-knots roun’ us, jess 
lak dey uster do de ole witches.” 

“Hush, daddy,” said the “boys” 
drawing near, “doan you talk bouten 
dem witches; dey mout come er flut- 
terin’ roun’ heah sho ’nuflP.” 

At this point, I rode suddenly into 
the clearing, my orderly close behind 
me. The consternation I created 


6 


OF THE SHADOW 


could not have been greater had a 
witch actually “fluttered” into their 
midst. Believing that the Yankees 
were down upon them in full force, 
the boys “stood not upon the order 
of their going.” But the valiant old 
Uncle Limos stood his ground like 
another Horatius. 

Placing himself before his young 
mistress, he called out: “Holeondar, 
ef you please, sah, jess a minit,sah?” 

Then aside to the girl: “Cut an' 
run, honey! cut an’ run for Gawd’s 
sake !” 

Then to me, “Young Marster, I 
reckons youall think dat wealls done 
buhn dis cottin pile! No, sah, I 
swar, sah, dat wealls jess come down 
heah ter distinguish hit. I doan 
know no mor’n you does jess how hit 
cotch, lessen hit wuz sponternasheus 
comber fustion. Dat was de way ole 
Billy wus buhn’d up — he drunk er 
gallon er whiskey en den lit his pipe, 
an’ dat was de las’ ob ole Billy.” 

While he was speaking, I advanced 


7 


THE FLIGHT 


slowly, and careless of my rein, had 
just lifted my hat to the young lady, 
intending to explain my peaceful 
mission, when lo ! my horse stepped 
on a live coal, and reared so suddenly 
and violently that I was thrown to 
the ground. 

Then, for many days, I lived in a 
world of Shadows — caused by concus- 
sion of the brain. And, by the way, 
how strange it is, that the jarring of 
a certain mixture of albuminous mat- 
ter, water, fat and salts, which com- 
pose my brain, should have expelled 
Me from my body, as it were, into a 
world of phantoms, as real to my 
changed condition as all material 
objects had been before ! 

However, if Berkeley, Mill and 
other philosophers have struck the 
the true keynote in nature, there is 
no material world except that which 
is conceived by “such a sentient, 
invisible, conscious thing as the mind 
is known to be.” 

Then, I want to know, who were 


8 


OF THE SHADOW 


these people that during my delir- 
ium came and went and spoke to me 
in tones that cannot he registered by 
the normal human ear? Were they, 
or are they as real as the so-called 
realities that are cognizable to my 
physical senses? 

Among these flitting unrealities — 
if such they were — was one who was 
continually by my side, and but for 
whom I would never have begun 
these chronicles. The impression is 
strong upon me that he is closely 
interwoven with my life, and what I 
shall now indite seems to justifiy me 
in my conclusions. 

¥r * * ^ 

“O ’tis a fearful thing to be no more! 

Or if to be, to wander after death ” 

Dry den. 

When I once more began to take 
cognizance of the things of this 
material world, my surroundings were 
so unfamiliar that it took me some 
time to realize my own identity. It 
was night. The weather was cool 


9 


THE FLIGHT 


for the season, and a pleasant glow 
from the slowly-burning log in the 
wide fire-place gave an air of com- 
fort to the room, a large, low-ceiled 
apartment with heavy mahogany fur- 
niture, whose style had long been out 
of date. 

I closed my eyes, and for a time 
lay perfectly quiet in order to enjoy 
once more the pleasure of mer 'y 
being. 

Outside, the wind was wailing like 
a lost soul, while the silence of the 
great house was broken only by the 
monotonous ticking of the clock in 
the hall. 

After a while I opened my eyes 
and let them wander around the 
room. I noticed that the candle on 
the high mantel was flaring in a pass- 
ing draught, and that its flickering 
blaze lighted up a portrait that hung 
above it. The picture was that of a 
man about my own age, small, dark 
and handsome. As I met the gaze of 
its deep, mysterious eyes, I shrank 
10 


OF THE SHADOW 


back among my pillows, muttering 
an old couplet that flashed into my 
brain from somewhere : — 

“For by dim lights the portraits of the dead 

Have something ghastly, desolate and dread.” 

“But why should I think of this 
young man as dead?” I ask myself. 
It is certainly very life-like, and I 
can almost imagine it is a living face 
peering at me from an opf^ning in the 
wall. As I lay watching it, unable, 
as it seemed, to withdraw my gaze, 
the candle flickered out, and the room 
would have been left in total darkness 
had it not been for the firelight. 

I could no longer see the painted 
face, yet I felt the intensity of its 
gaze. It seemed to penetrate my 
inmost being and to touch some chord 
of self-consciousness, that, hitherto, 
had lain dormant. Surely my nerves 
must be sadly shattered, that I, John 
Cecil, hitherto a sceptic and a mater- 
ialist, should indulge such fanciful 
imaginings ! 

“What have I to fear from a painted 


11 


THE FLIGHT 


face?” I ask, “for if a man has a 
soul, it is the same in the flesh or out 
of it.” 

I resolutely closed my eyes and 
composed myself to sleep, but just as 
I was crossing the border-line, the 
creaking of the chamber door roused 
me. 

Glancing in its direction, I noticed 
that some one was entering the room 
very softly, as though afraid of dis- 
turbing me. It was a small, dark man, 
whose dress was of an ancient fashion. 
As he came forward and stood near 
the blazing logs I observed carefully 
every detail, even to the buckles on 
his shoes and garters, whose gems 
flashed brightly as the fire suddenly 
flared upward, casting a weird light 
upon him. 

At first, I was startled to see how 
much his face resembled that of the 
portrait. Then like a flash it came 
to me, that it was also the face of the 
one who had so constantly attended 
me during my illness. 


12 


OF THE SHADOW 


Here, then, was a prosaic ending 
to my would-be mystery! I had al- 
ready realized that my present weak- 
ness and unfamiliar surroundings 
must be the consequence of an illness, 
during which I had been unconscious, 
at least part of the time. But I 
well remembered the young man’s 
face — his costume was, no doubt, one 
he had worn to some masquerade, 
from which he had just returned, 
slipping into my room to enjoy the 
warmth of the fire before going to his 
own. 

I was glad of his companionship, 
so I was not displeased when he came 
softly to my bedside, seated himself 
in a large arm chair, and leaning 
forward looked straight into my eyes. 

“So you are better, Captain Cecil?” 
he said with a gentle sigh of pleasure. 
“What a time you have been ‘out of 
your head,’ as they phrase it!” 

“Have I been delirious?” I asked. 
“Then that accounts for all those 
strange people I have seen and talked 


13 


THE FLIGHT 


with. They appeared so real, yet 
they were but phantoms.” 

“Phantoms,” he repeated as he 
fixed his dark eyes on me. “Are you 
quite sure of that? If you have 
studied aught of occult science you 
must have heard that in and around 
this so-called material world there 
lies another, not perceptible by man’s 
physical senses, yet as real as the one 
he does perceive. It is called the 
Astral World, and is peopled with 
myriads of beings whose constituent 
parts adapt them to their lives upon 
its plane, as readily as man is adapted 
to his life upon the earth plane. It 
is in this Astral World that you have 
been for the past ten days.” 

His voice — if voice it were — was 
soothing, and to encourage him, I 
simply smiled credulously, murmur- 
ing, “Idle theories, all.” 

“No, John Cecil, this is not an idle 
theory, but a living truth. Of this you 
may be certain — about you is an Astral 
World, and on the walls of this vast 


14 


OF THE SHADOW 


repository, every thought, feeling and 
act of earth-life is recorded in letters 
of fire. Here, things without form 
take shape; and he who runs may 
read the magnetic hieroglyphics that 
stand as living records of man’s 
virtues and follies. The Soul can 
perceive at a glance the experiences 
of its own many physical existences, 
as the vast panorama unrolls before 
it.” 

'‘'‘Many physical existences?” I 
question. 

“Yes, the various earth-lives it has 
experienced. In other words, the 
Soul remembers. Now what do you 
understand by Memory?” 

“Simply the revival of impressions 
made on the cerebral ganglia,” I re- 
ply confidently, knowing that my 
statement is a scientific one. 

“If your definition is correct,” he 
replied, “let us see what follows: — We 
cannot class Memory as an intellectual 
faculty, unless we cede intelligence 
to the lower animals, since it belongs 


15 


THE FLIGHT 


to them equally with man; nor can 
we admit that it is a part of man’s 
material nature, unless we are willing 
to grant that it perishes with the 
nerve-tissues, of which it is a part, 
on their disintegration at his death. 

“No, my friend, Memory belongs 
neither to the intellectual nor to the 
material part of man. It is the 
capacity of the Soul to look, as with 
introverted eyes, into the vast picture 
gallery of this invisible Astral World, 
so near and yet so far. It is here 
that Jock o’ Dreams holds his court, 
and here it is that your Astral Soul 
has wandered during your delirious 
hours, bringing back only confused 
memories of what it perceived there. 

“I must leave you now,” he said, 
“since your nurse is coming. Keep 
my visit a secret. I ask this for 
private and personal reasons. Think 
well of what I have said, for I shall 
be with you soon again.” 

As he disappeared, a pleasant-faced 
middle-aged negro woman entered the 


16 


OF THE SHADOW 


room. “Good Lawd! ” she muttered, 
“I muster slep’ mighty soun’ ! Nehber 
done dat way befo’ when I was tend- 
in’ on sick folks. Heahr’s de candle 
done buhn’d down in de sockit; dat’s 
er mighty bad sign ; — hope dar aint 
gwine to be a death in de fambly !” 

Hastily lighting a fresh candle, she 
came softly to my bed-side. When 
she found me not only awake but ra- 
tional, her pleasure was truly sin- 
cere. 

“Bless Gawd, young Marster, caze 
you is in yore right mine ag’in. 
Youze been outen yore haid ebber 
sence you fell offen yore boss dat 
night when de cottin bales buhn’d. 

“Miss Lucy, (meaning Mrs. Stuart) 
foun’ yore ma’s letter in yore pockit, 
an’ lawzee ! she cry ober you jes lak 
you been her own chile. She jes sont 
right off foh yore ma, and sheze done 
come, an’ you kin see her in de maw- 
nin’, so youall jess swaller dis here 
stuff what de army dawgter lef ’ foh 
you, an’ go ter sleep, caze I’ze done 

17 


THE FLIGHT 


tole you all dar is ter tell dat’s ob any 
quincykonce.” 

The following night, at my urgent 
request, I was left alone. I had easily 
persuaded my nurse to lie down on 
her cot in an adjoining room, from 
which soon issued sonorous sounds 
that told me she was out of my way. 
I soon fell into a light slumber, from 
which I was aroused by the sense of 
some one’s presence, and on opening 
my eyes I saw my expected visitor 
seated in the arm-chair that he had 
occupied the previous evening. After 
a few trivial remarks as to my condi- 
tion, etc., he led easily up to the sub- 
ject nearest his heart, — that of oc- 
cult philosophy. 

It was so restful to lie there at ease 
on my luxurious bed, and listen to 
his pleasant, low-toned voice, like the 
music of rippling waters over peb- 
bles. 

“Men continually have glimpses of 
this Astral World that lies about 
them, yet they resolutely close their 


18 


OF THE SHADOW 


eyes and ears, believing themselves to 
be deluded by hallucinations. 

“Another century, however, will 
bring new revelations, and there will 
be means of communication between 
the dwellers on each. 

“Even now the photographic plate 
is known to be sensitive to rays of 
light that the human eye cannot per- 
ceive. There are millions of sounds 
that the dull ear of man cannot hear. 
But some day, the bridge will be 
spanned, and he will comprehend that 
all the universe is animated by spirit. ’ ’ 

“Do you mean, that after death 
our souls simply linger in this Astral 
World and do not stand before the 
Judgment Bar as we are told in the 
Holy Writ?” I asked. “Is there neith- 
er a heaven nor hell?” 

“There are conditions which cor- 
respond to your ideas, perhaps, of 
heaven and of hell. In these, certain 
classes of humanity find themselves 
after death. But again, there is still 
another class of beings who linger in- 


19 


THE FLIGHT 


definitely in the Astral World I have 
told you of ; such, for instance, as 
‘Elementaries.’ Now do not confuse 
them with the ‘Elementals,’ for 
they belong to a different class al- 
together.” 

“I know absolutely nothing of 
either,”! replied, “but should like to.” 

“Well, then, since it interests you, 
know that man is composed of seven 
principles, united in life, but separ- 
able at death. Or, to simplify my 
statement, let us say he has a tri-une 
nature, the animal, the human and 
the spiritual. 

“To bring an illustration home, let 
us say, for instance, that I am a 
dead man.''' 

He paused and fixed me with his 
dark, mournful eyes. Outside,! heard 
the low sighing of the wind, and the 
distant hoot of the screech-owl in the 
forest. An uncanny feeling seized 
me as I echoed, “A dead man !” 

Was it fear that trickled along my 
nerves like liquid ice? I had faced 


20 


OF THE SHADOW 


death upon many a hot fought field, 
and once, as we lay all night up- 
on our guns in a pelting storm, I 
had spread my blankets on some poor, 
stark fellows who heeded neither the 
wind nor the rain, and I had slept 
soundly through the night. But never 
before had I felt such a trepidation of 
heart, as when it was borne in upon 
my senses that I actually was face to 
face with a being who should accord- 
ing to natural law be in his grave. Not 
appearing to notice my emotion, my 
companion continued to speak in his 
low, pleasant tones. 

“Let us assume that I was once a 
member of the old family who have 
owned this estate for more than a 
century, and that my death was sud- 
den and violent. Now, when my body, 
a mere mass of inert matter, was de- 
serted by its higher principles-you call 
the change, death — it was laid away 
in the old mausoleum that stands in a 
secluded spot on the plantation, where 
other members of the family repose. 


21 


THE FLIGHT 


“Its life principle remained, and, as 
it decomposed, these vital germs cre- 
ated new organisms, which, in turn, 
gave rise to others, and so on, so long 
as anything but dust remained. 

“My spiritual part passed onto a 
higher plane; of that, hereafter. My 
animal and human souls have never 
gone beyond the earth’s atmosphere. 

“Why, do you suppose? Simply, 
because, when I was in the very flush 
of early manhood, wTiile my whole 
being was impregnated with a fierce, 
all-absorbing passion, I was suddenly 
and by violence expelled from my 
body. Therefor, in obedience to a 
fixed law, I am compelled to linger 
near the scene of my death until that 
desire is gratified. The scene of 
my death, did I say ! I misspoke my- 
self, for, in fact, I am not dead at 
all. 

*T have simply laid aside my body 
as one would a cast ofi garment no 
longer serviceable, whi’ I continue 
to exist in its ethereal duplicate. The 


22 


OF THE SHADOW 


fact is, Captain Cecil, I am an ‘Ele- 
mentary.’ ” 

“I do not understand” — but he in- 
terrupted me a little disdainfully, I 
imagined. 

“Neither do I, nor does any one 
else understand even many of the 
simplest problems of nature. For 
instance, everywhere about us, in 
constant activity, is the force of ca- 
talysis, yet the wisest of mankind 
have never been able to explain 
just lohy, when a grain of wheat 
sprouts, one part of diatese changes a 
thousand parts of starch into sugar. 

“Then consider what assininity a 
man betrays when he denies a truths 
simply because his little mind cannot 
grasp it.” 

“Yet the world is full of such,” I 
murmur. 

“Yes, and it is they who retard its 
spiritual progress. And now, John 
Cecil, I am going to tax to the ut- 
most both your patience and your 
credulity, and I beseech you to listen 


23 


THE FLIGHT 


to my story — the story of my broken 
life. I implore you to believe it, and 
to aid me since you alone of all on 
earth can do so. 

“I must speak to-night, because I 
dare not risk losing what may be my 
only chance — the chance for which 
I have waited so long ; because there 
are certain fixed laws which regu- 
late the invisible world as well as the 
visible one. Before it was possible 
for me to hold communication with a 
person on the Earth-plane, I had to 
find some being whose nature and con- 
ditions were not dissimilar to my 
own, at the time of my death. 

“This I have done in you. For in- 
stance : I was twenty-six years old at 
the time I left my body ; you are now 
the same age : — we were both born in 
the same month and on the same day 
of the month ; I had served my coun- 
try in the field about the same length 
of time that you have ; I was recover- 
ing from an illness that had almost 
cost me my life, and above all, the 


24 


OF THE SHADOW 


best condition is, that our spiritual 
natures are not dissimilar. 

“To-night the molecular vibrations 
of your astral being are in unison 
with mine, or in other words, John, 
we are en rapport. This may not oc- 
cur again. You must certainly under- 
stand now, why I so earnestly beg 
you to hear me ; and, though my 
story may be tiresome, I shall not be 
long in telling it, since it need not be 
imparted to you by the slow process 
of human speech, to which poor souls 
in the flesh are limited, but by a series 
of impressions conveyed to your spirit- 
ual perceptiveness.” 

The following is what he told me: 

The Story of La Pelletier. 

“My name is Jean Jaques La Pelle- 
tier. I shall only go back to the year 
1690, and briefly state that during 
the terrible persecution of the Hug- 
uenots in France, at that time two 
brothers La Pelletier were the only 
representatives of our family. One 


26 


THE FLIGHT 


of them, my grandfather, was a 
staunch Eomanist; the other, whose 
name I bear, was an enthusiastic 
Huguenot, and with others of his 
class found a safe asylum in Carolina. 

“Here, on the banks of the Ashley, 
he built him a stately Manor, and 
began a new life in a new land. 

“At last, ripe in years, he was laid 
to rest in the stone mausoleum he had 
erected, and which is still standing. 

“He was succeeded by his son, who 
bore his name, of course, and who 
was his only child. By this time the 
estate was a fine one; the broad 
fields of rice and cotton, tilled by nu- 
merous slaves, yielded an income that 
many a prince might have envied; and 
far exceeded that of my Eomanist 
grandfather, whose property at his 
death was so heavily encumbered 
that my father’s only inheritance was 
a gloomy old chateau on the banks of 
the Loire, whose scant revenues scarce 
sufficed for the wants of our frugal 
household. 


26 


OF THE SHADOW 


“Then, my father, being a proud 
man, barred his doors, so to speak, 
against the world, and devoted him- 
self to his books, leaving me to the 
companionship of our two ancienr ser- 
vants, or to that of the owls and bats 
that peered, even in the daylight, from 
the dusky corners of our ruinous 
home. 

“I do not mean to say that my edu- 
cation was neglected. The priest from 
the neighboring Cathedral gave me 
all necessary instruction, for three 
hours every day, and my father him- 
self taught me to use the foils, an 
accomplishment deemed indispensible 
in every gentleman’s education, at 
that time. 

“I will not dwell on my youthful 
days, since my subsequent life is the 
one I wish you to understand ; there- 
fore I shall begin with my twenty- 
first birthday, when I suddenly found 
myself face to face with death, and 
the doors of the world, hitherto closed 
to me, were opened. 

27 


THE FLIGHT 


“On that day, my father was found 
stone dead. He was still seated in 
his arm chair, with an open letter be- 
fore him; a letter, which, taken in 
connection with his death, changed 
the whole current of my existence. 

“This was early in the year of 1776. 

“Now the letter which had such an 
important bearing on my life, was 
from the owner of the Carolina es- 
tates, my father’s cousin, Jean Jaques 
La Pelletier, of whom I have spoken. 
His only child was a daughter, Jaqui- 
line ; in case of her marriage with 
one not of his own name, the estate, 
of which he was so proud, would pass 
as it were, into alien hands. His 
adopted country was in a state of 
turmoil, war with England having 
already begun, so he had determined 
to set his mind at rest by arranging a 
marriage between his daughter and 
myself. As I bore his own name in 
full, he looked upon me as the true 
representative of his race. Such, in 
effect, were the contents of the letter. 


28 


OF THE SHADOW 


“Such marriages of convenience are 
still of common occurrence in France, 
therefore it is not strange that I glad- 
ly acceded to my kinsman’s propos- 
als, turned my back on the gloomy 
old chateau, and set out for the en- 
chanted land, where my fairy prin- 
cess awaited me. 

“At Dover I embarked on my cous- 
in’s Own ship, ‘The Jaquiline,’ 
which had brought its cargo to Eng- 
land direct from his plantation, and 
with fair winds we anchored, in due 
time, in Charleston harbor. 

‘ ‘I have not time to tell you of the 
welcome given me in my new home, 
nor of my emotions at beholding all 
the wonders that awaited me ; suffice 
it to say, that to my unsophistocated 
soul, every hour brought some new 
revelation, and life seemed a glorious 
heritage. 

“My kinsman was the grandest spec- 
imen of manhood I ever knew. He 
was six feet tall, and proportionately 
built. His face was smooth-shaven. 


29 


THE FLIGHT 


his dark hair always brushed back 
from his face and tied in a queue ; his 
eyes, deep-set beneath heavy brows, 
spoke of an intelligence above the 
average, and his firm lips and massive 
jaws denoted his iron will. 

“I shall never forget the first few mo- 
ments of the scrutiny of his piercing 
eyes. It seemed to me he read every 
thought of my previous life, but his 
hearty welcome soon reassured me, 
and I at once took my place in his 
household as the affianced husband of 
his heiress. 

Now, as to Jaquiline, I need only 
tell you that my acquaintance with 
womankind had, hitherto, been lim- 
ited to old Julie, our one woman ser- 
vant, with her lonely yellow tooth 
and pronounced mustache, in order 
that you may understand, at once, 
how madly I loved my beautiful 
affianced from the first moment I be- 
held her. 

“After all, John, the only true love, 
is love at first sight, but, oh how de- 


30 


OF THE SHADOW 

plorablethe fact, that it is not always 
mutual! 

“God knows, Jaquiline and I were 
both young enough to have indulged 
somewhat in romance, but not she. 
She had no thought of opposing her 
father’s will, (who had?)and accepted 
me as an accompaniment of the trous- 
seau, etc., that belongs naturally to a 
wedding. 

“If I endeavored to express my 
adoration, she coolly held me off at 
arm’s length, as it were. ‘Let us 
have no pretences, Jean,’ she would 
say, holding her pretty head erect, 
and drawing back the hand I sought 
to capture, ‘let us have no pretences, 
or I shall hate you. You surely un- 
derstand that in wedding you, I 
simply “fit my fancy to my father's 
will,” as the poet says.’ 

“Her cruel words cut deep into my 
soul, and I impulsively cried out : ‘O, 
Jaquiline, speak not thus! You 
must know that I love you better even 
than my own soul!’ 


31 


THE FLIGHT 


“Never shall I forget her glance of 
pity mingled with scorn ! 

“O, John, never make the mistake of 

showing a woman that you adore her. 

Feign indifference, if you feel it not ! 

“ ‘Chase a shadow, it will fly you, 

Seem to fly, it will pursue; 

So, court a woman, if she deny you. 

Let her alone, and she’ll court you.’ 

“But I digress. John, I seem even 
yet to hear Jaquiline’s mocking tones. 
‘Poor little cousin,’ she said, ‘you 
flitted so long among the shadows of 
your ancient chateau, that any Will- 
o’-the-Wisp can mislead you into 
quagmires. Love is no mushroom to 
spring up in a single night.’ 

“Her tone and look of superior wis- 
dom caused me to lose all self-con- 
trol. ‘A mushroom, sayst thou!’ 
I cry out impatiently. ‘Why, girl, 
I loved thee centuries ago ! I knew 
thee the very instant that my eyes 
met thine, though no memory of me 
stirred thy torpid brain. I knew 
thee for my own, and now I claim 
thee, body and soul! 


32 


OF THE SHADOW 


“Remember the oath we swore that 
last night beneath the palm trees on 
the Nile, even in the very shadow of 
the sacred Amun Ra.’ 

“John, it was not I, Jean Jaques 
La Pelletier who spoke. The w’ords 
formed themselves and sprang hot 
from my lips, as the memory of that 
far-off time stirred the depths of my 
subconscious self. Imagine their effect 
upon my young cousin. I saw that 
she doubted my sanity, and was 
cautiously drawing farther from me 
preparatory to flight, when, by an 
effort, I regained my self-control. 

“With a careless laugh, I said: 
‘How do you like the passage, Jaqui- 
line? It is from a drama that I am 
writing, and deals with the ancient 
doctrine of re -incarnation, a doctrine 
as old as the the very Universe.’ 

“ ‘Ah,’ she replied with a sigh of 
relief, ‘I did not know that you were 
an author. But, Jean, if the true 
spirit of your drama is to be caught, 
you should act the leading role. But 


33 


THE FLIGHT 


come, let us sit here comfortably in 
this arbor, while you tell me the plot ; 
it appears to have the merit of orig- 
inality at least.’ 

“Without any previous knowledge 
of what I was about to say, once more 
the words came from my lips : 

“ ‘Centuries ago, a youth and a 
maiden loved each other devotedly. 
Fate forced them to part, and at 
their last interview, a stolen one, 
they swore an oath which bound their 
souls together through all eternity. 

“ ‘These lovers were heathens, and 
did not believe that one little earth 
life could complete the growth of a 
soul. 

“ ‘They had been taught that in all 
created things there is a latent spark 
called spirit. If once set free from 
its environments, it is caught up in 
the whirl of terrestrial evolution, and 
spun madly on from shape to shape, 
through many phases of existence, 
until at last it breathes as a human 
child. 


34 


OF THE SHADOW 


‘Now, the two souls that were 
embodied in the youth and the maid- 
den, had met under various forms 
during the aeons of time through 
which, 

“ ‘ “Groping their way through obscurity, 
Stumbling, but stumbling to rise. 

Casting aside animality, 

Scaling the steeps of the skys,” 

they had slowly progressed towards 
humanity, and when, for the first 
time they recognized each other as 
immortal souls, self-conscious person- 
alities, they loved, and swore — ’ ” 

“ ‘O fie, Jean,’ interrupted Jaq., 
‘what an unconventional couple!’ 

“ ‘That their love,’ I continued, 
without heeding her, ‘should outlast 
time and defy even Death itself ; that 
no matter on what planet or in what 
shape they met during their various 
re-incarnations, each would claim the 
other.’ 

“ ‘My faith ! but it’s a weird story, 
Jean,’ said Jaq., ‘and savors some- 
what of the strange doings at Salem, 
once upon a time. But, tell me, by 


35 


THE FLIGHT 


what token were they to recognize 
each other during their re-embodi- 
ments — a strawberry mark, per- 
haps, — ’ 

“ ‘Now, Jaquiline, thou art laughing 
at me,’ I said good-naturedly, ‘and 
I will tell thee no more until, some 
stormy night, when we are sitting by 
the light of a blazing log, in the 
gloomy old library, and the witches 
are holding high carnival on the lawn 
without. That is the time to make a 
weird story effective, ma belle.^ ” 

% * * * 

“How I wish that instead of a pen 
picture, I could show you the old 
Manor as it was on the night of my 
formal betrothal to Jaquiline. It was 
burned to the ground by Tarleton, 
and this comfortable but plain man- 
sion stands near its original site. 

“I wish you could see the spacious 
parlors, more than sixty feet long, all 
ablaze with light from dozens of wax 
candles in chandeliers and candelabra; 
— the lovely dames and courtly gen- 

36 


OF THE SHADOW 


tlemen, resplendent in costly robes 
and jewels, bewigged, patched and 
powdered, walking the stately min- 
uet, Avhile their forms were reflected 
a hundred fold in the numerous pier 
glasses that reached from floor to 
ceiling, and again in the polished oak 
floor, to which age had imparted the 
hue of ebony. It was like gazing 
upon a living kaleidoscope ; — like an 
enchanted dream from which I was 
soon awakened. 

“At last I found myself alone with 
Jaquiline. The betrothal ceremony 
had been completed, the many con- 
gratulations received, the libations 
poured, and the guests were in the 
midst of their revels. 

“We were standing in the hall 
beneath a large chandelier, and, as 
she chatted gaily of pretty nothings, 
I feasted my eyes upon her, or let 
them rest upon her exquisite profile 
that was reflected in the tall mirror 
nearby, while my heart repeated 
exultingly: ‘She is mine! She is 

37 


THE FLIGHT 


mine ! and no power on earth or be- 
yond shall deprive me of her!’ 

“Even as the unuttered words hung 
on my lips, a tremulous, icy thrill ran 
through every nerve of my being; 
one is said to experience such a sen- 
sation when somebody is walking over 
the spot that is to be his grave. 

“Then, in the mirror, I saw the form 
of a young and handsome man rise 
between my betrothed and myself. 
His face was deadly pale, and his 
wide-open eyes were those of a som- 
nambulist. One hand was raised with 
a threatening gesture as though to 
ward me off, while the other appeared 
to clasp her waist. 

“What wonder that I stared with 
dilated eyes at such a strange appari- 
tion, for such I knew it to be. 
Observing the horror depicted in my 
face, Jaquiline asked kindly: ‘Are 
you ill, Jean, or do you see one of 
Aunt Dorcas’ ghosts?’ 

‘ ‘Her voice recalled me, and I hast- 
ened to reassure her. Then I led her 


38 


OF THE SHADOW 


forward to join the dance, forgetting 
for the time, the uncanny face that 
afterwards brought me such dire dis- 
aster ! Forgetting all else save the joy 
of the moment, and well for me that 
I could do so, for, on the morrow all 
was changed ! 

“ ‘The British fleet are anchoring in 
the harbor by De wee’s Island, north 
of Charleston!’ was the tidings 
brought us as we lingered over our 
late breakfast the next morning, and 
well we knew the meaning of the 
news. 

“Of course, I was heart and soul 
with the patriots, and side by side, 
rode with my kinsman to assist in the 
defense of Charleston. The gallant 
stand made by Colonel Moultrie and 
his brave followers on that memor- 
able Friday has now become a mat- 
ter of history ; yet, I must say, that 
I never beheld a grander sight 
than w’hen the fifty British ships, 
with canvas spread and flying flags, 
came sailing into the harbor that 


39 


THE FLIGHT 


bright summer morning, the clear 
sky above them, and the yellow sun- 
light dancing on the blue water. 

“How my heart throbbed as they 
cast anchor with their broadsides 
toward our palmetto fort, and from 
their black hulks, a hundred and fifty 
fiery mouths began to pour a deadly 
challenge. 

“How gallantly the little fort with- 
stood the fierce assault! The morning 
passed, yet our blue flag with its sil- 
ver crescent still floated from the 
south-eartern bastion, and our twen- 
ty-six pounders sent back their sullen 
defiance. 

•‘At last Sir Peter became so enraged 
that he determined to make short 
work of it ; simultaneously, his ships 
poured their broadsides into our fort. 
Down went the blue banner from the 
bastion ! A dozen brave patriots lay 
wounded and dying. Among them 
was my dear kinsman, who breathed 
his last just as the air was wild with 
cheers at Jasper’s brave act. The 


40 


OF THE SHADOW 


victory was ours, but what could 
atone for our personal loss?” 

* * * ^ 

“By my kinsman’s will, I now be- 
came the head of our house, and, 
accompanied by Jaqailine and her 
mother, returned to the plantation, 
where we each tried, as best we could, 
to take up the broken thread of our 
lives. 

“The patriots held undisputed pos- 
session of Carolina, but both armies 
were concentrating in the North, and 
from this point, from time to time, 
there came such stirring news that I 
was wild to be off. My aunt, divin- 
ing my feelings, made no objections 
when I begged her permission to ride 
away with the gallant La Fayette to 
the North, where we joined General 
Washington in time to assist in 
disputing the passage of the Brandy- 
wine with Cornwallis. 

“But I will not dwell on the many 
‘hair-breadth ’scapes’ that I had 
during the three years that I wore the 


41 


THE FlilGHT 


buff and blue, since it in no wise con- 
cerns my story. Suffice it, that early 
in the spring of 1780 I found myself 
once more in South Carolina, 
cautiously making my way toward 
my home. Alas! what changes War 
had brought to this once fair state ! 
The blackened ruins of many a stately 
mansion, and the deserted fields on 
every side, marked, but too well, the 
track of Tarleton’s fierce legions, or 
of the sanguinary Tory. My guide 
and I travelled only at night, and 
with the utmost caution. 

“One day, as we were resting in our 
leafy covert, we were awakened by 
the trampling of horses and the sound 
of voices, and found ourselves in the 
midst of Buford’s men. This intrepid 
colonel with only four hundred fol- 
lowers and two small pieces of artil- 
lery, was on his way to assist Gen. 
Lincoln, then beseiged in Charles- 
ton. 

“ ‘You may as well right-about face, 
Colonel,’ said my guide. ‘I was near 


42 


OF THE SHADOW 


Charleston five days ago, and this is 
the situation : — 

“ ‘Arbuthnotis anchored within can- 
non shot of the town ; Clinton holds 
the south bank of the Ashley, and 
Cornwallis, with three thousand men 
is overrunning the country east of 
the Cooper.’ 

“ ‘Then, I must rejoin Gen. Gates, 
since my little force would be useless 
here, ’ said Buford. T trust, Captain, 
that you will return with us, since it 
seems impossible for you to proceed.’ 

“ ‘I must reach home at all hazards. 
Colonel,’ I replied; ‘every moment’s 
delay — ’ My sentence was never 
finished, for close at hand rang out 
the sharp crack of a rifle, followed by 
another, and another, and Buford’s 
pickets came scurrying in, sounding 
the alarm. All was now confusion, 
for Tarleton and his bloody devils had 
surrounded us. 

“To our surprise, we saw a party of 
men approaching, bearing a white 
flag, and found that they bore 

43 


THE FLIGHT 


Tarleton’s demand for our surrender. 
Ht was useless to resist,’ he said, 
^for seven hundred horsemen encom- 
passed us, and Cornwallis, with a 
large force, was ready to intercept 
us !’ 

“My heart sank as I heard the 
words, for I did not know that they 
were false. 

“While we were parleying as to 
terms, and our men, not suspecting 
treachery, were off guard, down came 
the Redcoats upon us like an ava- 
lanche, cutting and slashing right and 
left, with their drawn swords. The 
surprise was complete ! No words can 
describe the scene ! In vain the officers 
tried to rally their panic stricken men. 
A few made feeble efforts at self- 
defense, then threw down their guns 
with the rest, and were made pris- 
oners. 

“I had a short encounter, hand to 
hand, with a thick set, swarthy fel- 
low about my own age, who was well- 
mounted. Hearing me frantically 
44 


OF THE SHADOW 


appealing to the men to stand their 
ground and give them hell, he dashed 
at me, full gallop, intending to ride 
me down. Fortunately I was too 
quick for him, and saved myself by 
springing aside. 

“As his sword came clashing down, 
I caught it on my own. A footman 
has the advantage, you know, in a 
case of this kind, because the mounted 
man must manage his animal; so I 
was in a fair way to rid my country 
of a deadly scourge, as I was getting 
the better of my assailant, who was 
the notorious Tarleton himself. But 
fate was against me. I was suddenly 
seized from behind "by a couple of 
Kedcoats, and so quickly pinioned 
that I was a prisoner before I could 
recover from my surprise. 

“It is a marvel to me, even yet, how 
I escape^ death, since, on all sides, 
Buford’s men were butchered in cold 
blood. Only fifty- three were spared, 
including myself. The British quickly 
buried their own dead — only five— but 


46 


THE FLIGHT 


leaving our killed and wounded where 
they lay, began their march toward 
Charleston, taking the fifty-three 
prisoners with them. 

“You may imagine my anxiety of 
mind on this wearisome march. 
Bitterly did I repent having left my 
kinswomen at the mercy of such a 
foe. I do not recall the number of 
days that we trudged along the dusty 
roads, when, one evening at sunset, 
we halted at a wayside inn, whose 
creaking sign announced, ‘Entertain- 
ment for Man and Beast;’ but the 
bare room in which we were locked, 
gave scant promise of its fulfilment. 

“Tarleton, with most of his men, 
had ridden away to join Cornwallis, 
leaving us attended by only a small 
escort, which we could easily have 
overcome, had not our hands been 
confined while on the march. 

“As we neared Charleston we found 
the Redcoats literally swarming every- 
where and in full authority, therefor 
our escort became more lax in their 


46 


OF THE SHADOW 


vigilance, as they thought an escape 
could only be followed by recapture, 
in which case, we were told scant 
mercy would be shown. 

“But we did escape and successfully 
too. The landlord of the inn was in 
full sympathy with the patriots. He 
served the British with the best his 
larder afforded, not forgetting a plen- 
tiful supply of drugged wine. Then, 
while all were making merry, he 
slipped in among us, cut our bonds, 
and gave us such ‘good cheer’ that 
we soon felt ourselves ready to 
respond, when he bade us to be pre- 
pared at a moment’s notice to mount 
and ride away with the ‘Swamp 
Fox,’ who was on his way to our 
rescue. 

“About midnight the signal was 
given. Silently, one by one, we crept 
out in the darkness, cautiously fol- 
lowed our guide to where the horses 
stood ready, and mounted. Then the 
whispered directions: — 

“ ‘Ride eastward to the clump of 


47 


THE FLIGHT 


live-oaks. Marion and thirty of his 
men are waiting there for you. There 
are holsters at your saddle hows ; go, 
and God speed you!’ 

‘ ‘The whole affair had been so excel- 
lently managed by ‘mine host,’ that 
in half an hour we were riding 
swiftly along the moonlit highway in 
company with the gallant partisans, 
fearing nothing from the sleeping foe 
we had left behind us. 

“All night long we rode, and when 
morning dawned it found us safe in 
sanctuary, so to speak, since our 
island retreat was hidden in the midst 
of a vast swamp, and was accessible 
only to the few who knew the secret 
path leading to it through the dense 
woods and quagmires. 

“But, in my state of mind rest was 
impossible; and when our scouts 
brought news of the bombardment 
and surrender of Charleston, I could 
delay no longer. 

“Marion, too, had begun to grow 
restless, so, one evening, in company 

48 


OF THE SHADOW 


with a score of his brave spirits, he 
started out, as he said, ‘to put a flea 
in the ear of a few too arrogant Eed- 
coats.’ 

“Of course I could not lose the 
opportunity, and suggested that they 
escort me, at least, part way on my 
perilous journey. 

“My extreme anxiety in regard to 
my kinswomen caused me to be 
doubly cautious, since, were I made 
prisoner, they would be left entirely 
without a protector, and yet my pres- 
ence might only serve to increase their 
danger. However, I was determined 
to see for myself how they were sit- 
uated, and gladly set off with my 
partisan friends. We kept well in the 
by-paths and beneath the shadows of 
the trees whose long, trailing banners 
of grey moss served as excellent 
screens. 

“What strange, wild creatures my 
companions appear! their long hair 
and unkempt beards seeming to form 
a part of their coonskin caps ! How 

49 


THE FLIGHT 


noiselessly they creep forward, mus- 
kets in hand, their buckskin moccasins 
making no sound as they press the 
yielding earth, and I almost believe 
them to be fantastic shadows, instead 
of brave, tried men ready to die for 
their cause and country. 

“When we reached the forest that 
belonged to the La Pelletier planta- 
tion, the locality of which was well 
known to these native Carolinians, 
we decided to reconnoitre before ad- 
vancing into the open field. While 
we were conversing in low tones, our 
leader, who was somewhat in advance, 
gave the signal, and we quickly and 
quietly took cover. 

‘ ‘Then came the sound of hoof beats, 
a cloud of dust, and a party of Red- 
coats galloped in sight. They drew 
rein in front of a corn-crib and dis- 
mounted. We knew by their led 
horses and empty pack saddles that 
they were simply a foraging party, 
who would soon be on the move again. 

“At work they went shelling the 
50 


OF THE SHADOW 


corn, in order to facilitate its trans- 
portation. From time to time came 
bursts of merriment from the crib, 
which told of the circulating canteens. 

“Of course, the gallant partisans 
could not resist giving the unsuspect- 
ing Redcoats a little surprise party. 
Only a narrow wagon road separated 
them from the crib, which stood on 
the edge of the clearing. They sprang 
across the narrow road, and uttering 
such yells as I had never heard before, 
they surrounded the crib and began 
to fire volley after volley through the 
door and between the unchinked logs. 

“But the Redcoats are not the men 
to die like rats in a trap. Out they 
rush, pell mell, meet their assailants 
hand to hand, and then they have it, 
hot and close ! 

“As for me, I have only a confused 
recollection of sabre strokes, sharp 
bayonet thrusts, and the dull thud 
of a musket, as some poor fellow’s 
brains are dashed out, and of dread- 
ful groans intermingled with oaths. 


61 


THE FLIGHT 


then oblivion. The fray had begun 
about dusk, but night had already 
closed in when I became dimly con- 
scious. I had been left where I had 
fallen and lay among the dead. I 
attempted to rise, but could not move 
a muscle ; to cry out, but my tongue 
refused utterance. Then a dreadful 
fear possessed me. Was I dead? I 
recalled a theory that I had often 
heard my father advance; viz., that 
the dead retained consciousness until 
the very last atom composing their 
material bodies had been disintegrated 
and had returned to its original ele- 
ments. The thought was torture ! 
Perhaps I should be cast into a pit 
with the bodies around me, there to 
lie day after day, my consciousness 
bound to the decaying mass ! 

“But my sufferings were of short 
duration, and my heart gave a joyous 
thrill at the sound of familiar voices 
which I now heard. Then I saw old 
Uncle Daniel’s honest black face 
shining in the light of the blazing 

62 


OF THE SHADOW 


pine knot he held aloft, in order that 
my dear Aunt Mary, who was close 
behind him, might see her way. 

“They pause near me, yet despite 
my utmost efforts, I cannot make my 
presence known. 

“How ludicrous Uncle Daniel’s pro- 
testations sound ! Only a Southerner 
can understand the liberty an ancient 
servant takes in remonstrating with, 
or advising his master or mistress. 

“He was saying: ‘I tells you what. 
Miss Mary, youalls oughtener be 
foolin’ roun’ deseheah dead corpuses, 
espeshully in de night tarn, honey. 
Marse Marion’s done kyard off all er 
his men what got hutted, an’ me an’ 
de boys’ll tote de res’ ob dese down 
ter de swamp in de mawnin’. No, 
honey, dis aint de place fer white 
ladies !’ 

“‘Peace, Daniel!’ said my aunt. 
‘If you are afraid, give me the torch, 
and get you back to your chimney 
corner and your pipe.’ 

“This silenced the old negro, and 


63 


THE FLIGHT 


despite his terror, he still kept close 
by the side of his mistress as she went 
from one to another of the prostrate 
forms, seeking in vain for signs of 
life. At last she turned to leave. I 
heard her sigh : ‘Poor fellows? Many 
a woman’s heart will ache for this 
day’s work !’ 

‘ ‘Again she approached and paused 
beside me; the hem of her dress 
brushed my hand! Never had life 
seemed so sweet as at this moment 
when it hung on the slender chance 
of a look. Then, like an inspiration 
came the remembrance of the strange 
power that lies in the magnetism of a 
fixed gaze. I riveted my eyes upon 
hers, concentrating all my will power 
in the one wish that they would meet 
mine. 

“She grew uneasy, then began to 
peer anxiously around, and finally 
she took the pine knot from Uncle 
Daniel’s hand, bent over me, and in 
its glare, looked straight into my 
eyes ! 


54 


OF THE SHADOW 


“Then I felt myself slipping down 
into a black abyss and knew no more 
for the time. 

“I had only fainted from weakness 
and loss of blood, as you may know. 
When I regained consciousness I 
found myself on a low trundle bed 
amid unfamiliar surroundings. 

“The ruddy glow from the burning 
logs in a great fire place, and the tal- 
low candles on the mantel, dimly 
lighted up the white-washed logs, a 
bare, unpolished floor, and furniture 
of the plainest description ; yet there 
was an air of comfort about the place 
which gave me a sweet sense of rest, 
and when the soft murmur of familiar 
voices reached me, I knew that I was 
at home again, and was content. 

“How thankful I was to lie there 
and feast my eyes upon my true love’s 
bonny face ! How lovely she was as she 
sat half-reclining in the high-backed 
chair, with the flickering light play- 
ing hide and seek among her clustering 
curls. The slender girl of eighteen 


66 


THE FLIGHT 


that I had left was now a charming 
woman of twenty-two, unchanged 
save in a riper loveliness. The years, 
however, had left traces of care upon 
my dear aunt. How worn and wor- 
ried she looked, and what anxiety 
was in her tones as she took counsel 
in regard to my safety ! 

“From their conversation, I soon 
learned that the British torch had 
left our noble Manor only a heap of 
ruins, and that my dear kinswomen 
were sheltered in the log cabin once 
occupied by the overseer ; that they 
had confided their fallen fortunes to 
the care of Uncle Daniel, and had 
remained on the plantation, contrary 
to the advice of those who urged them 
to follow the popular course, and 
seek the protection afforded by the 
city, if they would simply promise 
allegiance to King George. But they 
willingly chose independence, loyalty 
to their faith, and Uncle Daniel ; and 
truly the valiant old hero had proven 
himself worthy of their trust. He 


56 


OF THE SHADOW 


gathered together snch animals as 
had escaped the general ravage, and 
transferred them to an island in the 
swamp. Here he and his two stalwart 
sons made a safe rendezvous, and, 
unmolested, cultivated such vegeta- 
bles as were needed, kept their poultry- 
undisturbed by British foragers, and 
their good old cow which never failed 
to supply her share of the milk and 
butter. Occasionally, a deer was 
stalked, and the river yielded an abun- 
dance of fish. 

“The old man made weekly trips to 
Charleston, exchanging his load of 
‘truck,’ as he called it, for such little 
luxuries as the family needed, and 
bringing back his budget of news — 
of the gay doings in the city, and the 
latest raids of the bold and dashing 
partisans. 

“So, despite their homely sur- 
roundings, my kinswomen managed 
to live in some degree of comfort, 
and to maintain the honor of their 
house, which forbade affiliation with 

67 


THE FLIGHT 


an enemy in arms against their 
country. 

“Such was their condition when I 
once more became an inmate of their 
household — a dangerous inmate, for, 
should my presence become known, 
they would be involved in absolute 
ruin. 

“Uncle Daniel fully realized this. 
‘I tells you what, Miss Mary,’ said 
he, ‘youall better lemme tek ’im 
down ter de swamp wid de tings. De 
Torries nebber fine ’im down dyah, 
an’ de boys’ll tekkeer ob ’im.’ 

“‘What an absurd idea, Daniel !’ 
said Aunt Mary. ‘He will be safe 
enough here. We have no visitors 
now, and the British have not left 
us anything worth coming after. We 
will keep a sharp lookout to prevent 
surprises. Tobias can act as sentinel, 
and if anyone is seen approaching, 
can warn us. Then, you see, we can 
easily push the low trundle-bed your 
young master is lying on, under 
the big four-poster, and the vallance 

68 


OF THE SHADOW 


will completely conceal it. At any 
rate, Daniel, this seems to me the only 
plan, for his life hangs on a slender 
thread, and we must save it.’ 

“So it was settled, a simple arrange- 
ment, but the best one possible it 
proved, having shortly afterward 
been put to the test, when our little 
sentinel, Tobias, came bounding into 
our midst with the announcement that 
‘De Torries am ’cornin’!’ and a 
party of Redcoats were seen approach- 
ing. My aunt quickly pushed my 
trundle-bed out of sight, and then, to 
make assurance doubly sure, donned 
her night-cap and climbed up among 
her pile of feathers on the big four- 
poster, where she played the invalid 
so successfully that the enemy soon 
went their way, leaving her undis- 
turbed. 

“I fain would linger on those happy 
days of my convalescence,John, those 
pleasant days when I was so near my 
heart’s delight; but I must pass on to 
one awful day,— the day which 


69 


THE FLIGHT 


brought the death of all that made 
life dear to me and shattered my peace 
of mind forever ! 

“The afternoon was warm and sul- 
try and my bed had been placed before 
the open window commanding a view 
of the long avenue bordered by tall 
poplars, which led to the house. 

“I had been lying there during the 
pleasant hours as one entranced. Ja- 
quiline had been reading ‘Rasselas’ 
aloud, yet I had scarcely heard one 
word, so wrapped was I in love’s de- 
lusive dream. 

“The shaded gallery, overrun by a 
profusion of multiflora, the warm sun- 
shine flooding the long neglected lawn, 
the feathery date-palm, whose long, 
graceful plumes scarcely stirred, all 
stand out in my mind’s eye, as in a 
living picture. 

“I even can hear again the pleasant 
whir of Phoebe’s wheel at the far 
end of the gallery, and the quaint 
song with which she now accompanied 
it, breaking the silence that had fal- 


60 


OF THE SHADOW 


len upon us, since Jaquiline had 
closed her book, and, succumbing to 
the drowsy influence had fallen 
asleep. 

lay idly watching Phoebe, as she 
walked backward and forward, her 
bare feet making no sound on the 
board floor, deftly drawing out the 
long, slender rolls and skilfully guid- 
ing them as they are swiftly convert- 
ed in smooth threads and are whirled 
around the revolving roach. 

“The words of her song fell as idly 
on my ears as some rustling wind 
among dead leaves, but ah ! how pro- 
phetic of my own sad fate! 

“ ‘O, waly ! walj;! but luv is bonnie, but luv is bon- 
nie when it is new. 

But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld, and fades away 
like the morning dew. 

“ ‘O, wherefore s’uld I busk my head? 

O, whereiore s’uld I kame my hair? 

For my true love has me forsook, 

And says he’ll never love me mair— ^ 


“All at once Tobias came bounding 
up a by-path, his one garment,a long 
tow-shirt, fluttering in the breeze, his 
little black legs making one step 


61 


THE FLIGHT 


cover three, and shouting: ‘Oh, Miss 
Mary,de Torries am cornin’, de Torries 
am cornin’!’ 

“In a twinkling my trundle-bed w’as 
out of sight. Phoebe had scarcely be- 
gun to twirl her wheel again, my aunt 
to resume her knitting and Jaq. her 
reading, when a horseman appeared 
coming swiftly up the avenue. A slit 
in the vallance permitted me to see 
without being seen myself, and as I 
watched the approaching Redcoat I 
felt no warning, no presentiment of 
coming evil. I remember to have 
thought what bad taste was displayed 
by the British in their garish uniform, 
but confessed to myself that it well be- 
came the young officer now approach- 
ing. 

“As he drew rein, he looked about 
him with a bewildered air, as though 
expecting to find some better habita- 
tion than a log cabin. Then, seeing 
the ladies on the gallery, he sprang 
from his horse and advanced toward 
them, his face aglow wuth pleasure. 


62 


OF THE SHADOW 


“They arose to receive him with the 
dignity the occasion seemed to de- 
mand, but he, bounding up the steps, 
paused, dropped his outstretched 
hands and said in tones of disap- 
pointment : ‘What ! Aunt Mary, don’t 
you know me?’ 

“ ‘Why, I would know you any- 
where ! Am I so changed? Yet I am 
the same Harold, your own nephew, 
that you left eight years ago ! And 
this is Cousin Jaquiline, I know it is, 
although my romping coz. seems quite 
a dignified spinster.’ Then all state- 
liness has vanished, and ‘Harry 
dear,’ ‘Cousin Harry,’ is greeted 
with a warmth which apparently 
ignores the fact that he wears the 
uniform of the tyrant George. 

“As I look more closely at this 
man’s face, my brain seems to reel. 
Where had I seen it before? When? 
Where? Suddenly, a hand of ice 
seems to clasp my heart; my God! it 
is he — he — the Thing that had stood 
between me and my love on the 


63 


THE FLIGHT 


betrothal night, and warned me back 
with such a menacing gesture ! The 
same face, no longer pale, but with 
rosy pleasure, yet the same! What 
had brought him across the sea that 
night, when his body lay asleep at 
Oxford? This thought chilled my 
blood, for, as I listened to the con- 
versation I found that he had recent- 
ly left school to enter the army, and 
that he had just arrived, it being his 
first visit to America. 

“John, I will not dwell on my suf- 
ferings then. Unless you know what 
jealously is, you cannot understand 
them. 

“Afterwards, I tried to laugh away 
my fears as groundless. I brought 
reason to bear, and said to myself : 
‘I am the husband chosen for her 
by her beloved father, whose slight- 
est wish has been sanctioned by his 
death. She is such a staunch little 
patriot that she would soon scorn an 
alliance with one in arms against her 
country. Had she chosen to receive 


64 


OF THE SHADOW 


homage from the Redcoats, she could 
have taken part in the gay doings at 
Charleston, and queened it over any 
fair dame or damozel. But her patriot- 
ism has caused her to deny herself the 
pleasures common to youth, yet here 
am I harboring a passion fit only 
for the canaille^ merely because she 
receives her cousin with a show of 
cordiality.’ 

“Notwithstanding my logic, I was 
unable to regain my peace of mind, 
and ‘Trifles light as air’ kept my 
reason in perpetual conflict with my 
pride. 

“How readily Jaquiline found ex- 
cuses to condone what she termed her 
cousin’s unfortunate escapade. 

“I soon learned that Harold Stuart 
was the only son of Aunt Mary’s wid- 
owed sister, whose home was in a 
pleasant suburb of London, and whom 
she had visited when Jaquiline and 
Harold were in the ‘bread and but- 
ter’ period of their existence. 

“And, by the way, John, your hos- 

65 


THE FLIGHT 


tess, the mistress of this plantation, 
is a lineal descendant of this same 
Harold Stuart, having married her 
cousin who also bore the name. 

“I was, as a rule, ashamed to make 
my jealousy too manifest, and con- 
stantly exerted the utmost self-con- 
trol to conceal it, hut, on one occa- 
sion, I said: ‘Jaquiline, methinks 
you are somewhat gracious to a man 
who wears the colors you so recently 
detested. Perhaps you already regret 
your denunciation of the gallant Tarle- 
ton, to his face, and would accord 
him a welcome, also, since one of his 
minions is greeted so cordially?’ 

“Ignoring my sarcasm, she replied : 
‘You refer, of course, to my cousin 
Harold. I admit that it is deplora- 
ble to see him in a Redcoat ; it ill be- 
comes his pure Saxon style. How 
handsome he would be in buff and 
blue.’ 

“I knew that those colors were en- 
tirely unsuited to my sallow skin, and 
I will confess, John, that my vanity 


66 


OF THE SHADOW 


was somewhat touched. Men are 
vain creatures, after all, and if wom- 
en only knew this secret, — but I di- 
gress. 

“ ‘The colors, themselves, Jaquiline, 
signify but little,’ I said. ‘It is the 
principle they represent, of course.’ 

“She laughs saucily at my solemn- 
ity. ‘Why, Harold is not in sympathy 
with King George’s principles!’ 

“ ‘Is not?’ I reply; ‘then what ex- 
cuse has he for being in King George’s 
pay, and holding a commission from 
the tyrant?’ 

“At this, the hot blood mounts to 
her cheeks and brow, and she turns 
scornfully away to leave the room ; 
but, on second thought, she pauses 
and says haughtily: — 

“ ‘Sir, your words show me that you 
are as small in nature as in stature. 
They deserve no answer, but this 
much I will say. Until two months 
ago, Harold was a student at Oxford, 
paying but little attention to the 
broils in which England is engaged. 


67 


THE FLIGHT 


He had no idea, that we, his Ameri- 
can cousins, had espoused the cause 
of the patriots, because so many Car- 
olinians are loyal to the king. 

“ ‘When the school term ended, in 
company with several of his class- 
mates, he took service in the King’s 
cause, because he was weary of the 
inactivity of a student’s life, and 
looked to war as a means by which 
to win renown, or enjoy adventures. 

“ ‘It is but natural that he should re- 
gret his course, since mother and I are 
in sympathy with the patriots.’ 

“Then she walked away, and for 
some days pointedly avoided me. I 
can scarcely describe the conflicting 
emotions that tore my heart during 
this time ; — wounded pride, egotism, 
jealousy, and despair, made me feel 
that Dante’s Inferno was no myth. 

“O, how I longed to be once more 
afield where the chances of war might 
place me face to face with this ac- 
cursed villain ! 

“His daily visits, protracted 


68 


I 


OF THE SHADOW 

sometimes for hours, made conceal- 
ment, on my part, impossible, for I 
had no mind to be skulking under the 
bed, while he was enjoying the unin- 
terrupted companionship of my 
betrothed. 

“How he paled and winced when 
first introduced to me, and he became 
aware that I was the intended hus- 
band of the girl he loved ! 

“And when, at last, I was able to 
walk about on the gallery, and could 
interrupt their pleasant tete-a-tetes, 
what malicious pleasure I took in as- 
suming the rights of proprietorship 
over her, and in making him feel 
that an insurmountable barrier 
separted him from the girl he was mad 
enough to love ! 

“ ‘A word to Clinton, and the bar- 
rier would have been removed,’ are 
your thoughts, John, and true 
enough ; but I must give him the 
credit of being an honorable man, 
withal, since he must have been sore- 
ly tempted, and, no doubt, had many 


69 


THE FLIGHT 


a cruel battle with himself : for, after 
all, Self is a hard master who holds 
the whip hand over most of us ! 

“At last, he began to lure Jaquiline 
out for rambles about the plantation. 
When I put forth my feeble protest , 
it was promptly overruled by my 
aunt. 

“ ‘Jaq. has not been well of late,’ 
she said. ‘I am sure it is the close 
confinement, since she has been ac- 
customed to an out-door life. She 
must have more exercise in the open 
air, and who so suitable a companion 
as her Cousin Harold, since you, Jean, 
are unable to accompany her.’ 

“Then there arose in me a strong, 
overmastering desire to be whole and 
well once more, and I spent hours 
praying for this. 

“The Man of Galilee had healed 
the sick, made the blind to see, and 
had even raised the dead, through 
faith ; or, might it be, that he held 
the key to a simpler secret? For in- 
stance, may not all material conditions 


70 


OF THE SHADOW 


be merely misconceptions of the mind, 
and exist only as they are conceived 
by it? 

“No one can explain just how the 
nerves control the muscles ; now, may 
there not exist a finer set of activities 
that control the nerves, and through 
them, man’s whole physical being? 

“I grasped these thoughts as a 
drowning man grasps a straw, and 
held to them by night and by day ; 
and, the results? Well, explain it 
as you will, my recovery was so rapid 
as to be simply marvelous. 

‘ ‘One afternoon, my siesta was long- 
er and more profound than usual, and 
I awoke with the full conviction that I 
was strong enough to leave the house 
unattended, and walk, once more, 
beneath the sky, a free man. 

“I knew that Jaquiline was some- 
where in the grounds with her Tory 
lover, and I went forth, gloomily 
enough, yet fully determined to bring 
matters to a crisis. 

“So far, I had been silent, and had 

71 


THE FLIGHT 


submitted, as best I could, to the in- 
evitable, since my Aunt Mary held 
the laws of hospitality as sacred as 
her creed ; but now, I began to under- 
stand that in doing so I had com- 
mitted a moral wrong, since I had 
left the woman I should have shielded 
from temptation, to the power of the 
tempter. 

“I hesitated no longer. Taking a 
short sword from the wall and throw- 
ing a dark cloak over my shoulders, 
I went slowly along a by-path that 
led through the neglected grounds, 
my mind filled with bitter thoughts. 

“At length I reached the old mau- 
soleum and seated myself on a stone 
bench beneath the shade of a group of 
date palms, which even then were al- 
most a century old. 

“This ancient place, though over- 
run with shrubbery, stood on the 
edge of an open glade that had, in 
happier days, been used as a tennis- 
court. Encircling this court, was 
a grove of orange and magnolia trees, 


72 


OF THE SHADOW 


from whose branches a pair of mock- 
ing-birds were pouring floods of 
delicious melody. 

“As I looked from my shadowy re- 
treat across the sun-lit glade, a 
weird fancy seized me. The sad 
story of King Oedipus took hold of 
me, and so wrought upon my nerves, 
that, for the time, I seemed to myself 
to he he^ sitting as once he did, listen- 
ing to the nightingales as they sang 
in the Garden of the Furies. 

“Almost unconsciously I found my- 
self repeating his words : ‘Within, 
dense flocks of nightingales are sing- 
ing sweetly,’ etc. Any school boy 
is familiar with the passage. 

“Then, from the shadows of the tan- 
gled foliage, a gentle voice seemed to 
answer : — ‘Beware ! It is a spot not 
to be touched ! Awful goddesses pos- 
sess it ; — daughters of Primeval Dark- 
ness.’ 

“ ‘Then come, ye daughters of Prim- 
eval Darkness,’ I continued, still 
using as you know, the words of the 

73 


THE FLIGHT 


unfortunate king: ‘come, and com- 
passionate this phantom of a man in 
Oedipus, for indeed, this is not he 
who once was J.’ 

“I doubt not but that these seeming- 
ly vagrant fancies were suggested by 
some kindly unseen influence to warn 
me from the spot, but in vain, for 
they are forgotten as suddenly as 
they come, when my ear catches the 
sound of approaching voices, and my 
eyes rest upon the pair I had come to 
find, Jaquiline and her Tory lover, 
who are walking slowly across the 
sunlit glade, and directly towards 
me. 

‘ ‘They paused near me, and their 
words fall upon my heart like clods 
upon a coflfin lid. 

“His arm is around her waist, his 
hand clasps hers, while his eyes are 
bent upon her tear-stained face as 
though to read its every thought. 

“I can see her yet, my dearest love, 
and hear her sweet voice saying : ‘Oh, 
Harold, I cannot ! I dare not ! I am 


74 


OF THE SHADOW 


bound to him by ties that death has 
sanctified.’ 

“ ‘Dearest,’ he replies, ‘such ties 
are feeble threads when compared to 
the strong cords of a true love which 
binds two souls so closely that even 
Death cannot unloose the knot. 

‘ ‘ ‘Your dear father would not know- 
ingly have doomed you to a living 
death by forcing you into this hateful 
marriage. He did not love the empty 
bauble of a name more than his only 
child.’ 

‘ ‘ ‘He spoke in low persuasive tones, 
and as his words fell on my ears, I 
stood as one stricken with paralysis. 
Murder, red-handed, rose in my heart, 
tempting me to slay him where he 
stood, traitor that he was, and give 
him no chance to defend his life. But 
thank God for the long line of gentle- 
men who stood between me and my 
far away origin, and warded off, as 
with drawn swords, traits which 
mark the orders who are the slaves of 
their lower passions. 


76 


THE FLIGHT 


“I was true to my heredity, so with 
a mighty effort, I calmed myself. I 
measured at a glance his short sword 
in its burnished guard that hung 
from his belt and soon saw that it 
matched my own. So far we were 
equal. In point of physical endur- 
ance, of course, he had the advantage, 
but this consideration did not enter 
my mind. 

“I stepped quietly forward and 
stood beside them, before they were 
aware of my presence. My appear- 
ance must have been wild and hag- 
gard in the extreme, for even before 
I had spoken a word, Jaquiline 
shrank back pale and trembling and 
turned to retrace her steps while he 
prepared to follow. 

“I had no intention, however, of 
permitting him to escape so easily. 
Touching him on the shoulder, I said : 
‘Stay a little, sir, I have somewhat 
to say to thee.’ 

“ ‘Say it quickly and have done, 
then,’ he replied haughtily, and 

76 


OF THE SHADOW 


faced me as boldly as though he were 
an innocent man. This so exasperated 
me that despite my resolution to be 
calm, I cried without further ado : 
‘Coward! Defend thyself! En 
guardeV 

“The words had scarcely left my 
lips ere his blade was out like a flash 
and he was in position ready for 
me. Our swords cross in salute, and 
at a glance we measure each other. 
His cold, steel blue eyes, which re- 
turn my fierce gaze without flinching, 
tell me that I have ‘A foeman worthy 
of my steel.’ 

“Then we go at it hot and fast, 
like two devils in whose veins run 
icy fires. We advance, retreat, thrust, 
feint and parry, with no human eye 
to witness. With what fury we 
fight ! Ah, John, strange as it may 
seem to you, the molecules in this im- 
material form of mine even now 
move faster among themselves as I 
recall that duel. Would that we had 
weapons, and that you were yourself^ 

77 


THE FLIGHT 


I would show you some of our strokes. 
They were marvelous pretty ! 

“But the end came, and I lost; not 
through lack of skill, but because my 
hour had struck, as you shall see. 

“He thrust carte over my arm, I par- 
ried tierce and returned the thrust in 
tierce. Then he forced a thrust with- 
out advancing ; of course, I parried 
'prime., intending to disengage over 
his arm and return the thrust in 
seconde^ delivering it under the wrist 
and elbow to a point between his right 
arm-pit and breast. 

“You see my move would have been 
the correct one, and had it been 
given, w’ould have changed my whole 
destiny ; but, at the very instant 
I parried prime., Jaquiline came 
running toward us, uttering the 
most piercing shrieks, and my hand 
paused. 

“It was only for the fraction of a 
second, yet long enough to herald in 
eternity for me, since my adversary, 
quickly recovering, struck my blade 


78 


OF THE SHADOW 


aside, and thrust his own through my 
body. 

“My next sensation was that of be- 
ing upheld and upborne by some 
strong, unseen force, through dark- 
ness and silence; — swiftly, noiselessly, 
— on, on, and ever upward.” 

At these words I (John Cecil) im- 
pulsively interrupted my strange vis- 
itor, for had not my experience so 
recently been identical with that he 
was relating? So I cried out: “I per- 
fectly understand you, Pelletier ! The 
sensations you describe have also 
been mine, though, perhaps in a 
dream. Let me relate them? I remem- 
ber riding into an open glade at night 
where some cotton bales were burning 
— then a sudden blow, and all was 
blank. After a little, I felt myself 
borne swiftly upward and onward, 
through a darkness most intense — , 
through a silence most profound ; it 
was not the uncertain, darting flight 
of the swallow, but the steady, unwav- 
ering soar of the eagle. 


79 


THE FLIGHT 


“No tongue can describe the feeling 
of perfect peace and rest that 
possessed me, and the mighty effort it 
cost me to come back, when, from the 
far depths below, I heard a voice call- 
ing to me. I resisted obeying it with 
every effort of my being, but in vain. 
Some law compelled me to return. I 
would open my eyes to find myself in 
my body, and then once more I would 
escape from it, and soar away in 
silence and blackness through limit- 
less space. 

“And so, like a shuttle-cock in the 
hands of Fate, I was thrown back and 
forth between this world and another 
until the dream vanished.” 

“It was no dream, John Cecil,” 
said my visitor, “no dream; but of 
that I shall tell thee later, 

“For the present, I must go on with 
my story, and again I implore you to 
believe me. 

“Unlike your experience, after a per- 
iod of oblivion, I did not awake in 
in the flesh, yet for a time it was 


80 


OF THE SHADOW 


diflScult for me to realize my condi- 
tion. I was dazed, confused, bewild- 
ered ! 

“I found myself once more on the 
plantation, amid the scenes in which 
I had played my part ; among those 
whose daily lives had been so asso- 
ciated with mine, yet, I might as well 
have been at the North Pole. 

“I, myself, was unchanged. The 
same thoughts surged through my 
brain, the same impulses actuated me ; 
I was still Jean Jaques La Pelletier, 
and yet , — I was not. 

“How can I make you understand 
me, John? What words can express 
my suffering? What pencil portray 
my agony? To be absolutely unable to 
manifest my presence or my feelings ! 
To stand by helpless and unseen, 
while my betrothed was wooed by my 
detested rival ! To watch them, day 
by day, as preparations went forward 
for the wedding ! 

“Cecil, on my knees, I implored 
Aunt Mary to refuse her consent to 

81 


THE FLIGHT 


the marriage, but she neither saw nor 
heard me. I shrieked curses into his 
ear, but he was deaf ! 

“As for Jaquiline,the worldling, she 
seldom gave me a thought, after her 
first outburst of remorse had passed. 

“Many a night I tried every means 
in my power to force my personality 
into her dreams, and thus awaken in 
her heart some feeling of regret for 
me ; but all in vain, for if she dreamed 
at all, it was of him. O, how I 
longed for the power to communicate 
with my aunt; to tell her that I was 
not deadly only changed in condition, 
and that I would not release Jaquiline 
from her vow! 

“At last I thought of Dorcas, the 
old negress of ghost-story notori- 
ety. No doubt she possessed those 
mediumistic powers which went by 
the name of witchcraft. So, one even- 
ing I purposely placed myself in her 
path as she came from the spring with 
water, a bucket balanced on her head, 
and one in each hand. 


82 


OF THE SHADOW 


“Now when in the flesh I had always 
been a great favorite with Aunt Dor- 
cas, owing no doubt to the small 
change that often made its way from 
my pocket into hers, but when I 
stepped suddenly from the shadows 
into the moonlit path, and began my 
appeal to her, she fled with a wild 
shriek, dropping her buckets, and 
not even looking back. 

“The only result of this hope, you 
see, was to add another ghost story 
to an old negro’s long list. Surely the 
world is peopled by blind fools, one 
half through egotism, and the other, 
through fear. 

“But why dwell longer on this un- 
happy time? It goes without saying, 
that the marriage took place ; that 
my betrothed wife became the bride 
of another, while I stood by, a silent, 
helpless witness of it all. The ruins 
of the old Manor, destroyed by Tarle- 
ton, were cleared away and this 
Colonial mansion built, and here the 
happy pair began their new life. 


THE FLIGHT 


^‘But their happiness was short- 
lived, for two years later Jaquiline 
died suddenly of heart failure. 

“When they left her body alone in 
the mausoleum, I uttered prayers of 
thankfulness, for now I could claim 
her again; not her body but her 
Astral soul, which I hoped would 
soon appear, for I believed that she 
too would be earth-bound, as I am; 
that I might in our changed conditions 
be able to win the love she had denied 
me, and that somewhere, somehow, 
together we would begin another life. 

“But 1 was doomed to disappoint- 
ment ! 

“Although fond of life and its pleas- 
ures, she was not wholly engrossed by 
any earthly passion. Her affinities 
were pure and elevated, and her real 
Ego moved onward toward a higher 
spiritual plane, leaving behind it sim- 
ply an empty shell. True, this resem- 
bled her earthly body, but it possessed 
no more consciousness than a cloud 
floating in the sky. 


M 


OF THE SHADOW 


“I felt no regret when I saw it 
gradually fade away since this would 
insure her a quicker re-incarnation 
in the flesh. 

“Now Nature works in circles. 
Jaquiline’s psychical entity did not 
complete the perfect circle of its 
physical existence, but was thrown 
back into the great realm of being, 
its mission unfulfilled. 

“I knew it would soon be returned to 
earth in a material form, because 
Nature always lends every energy to 
restore the harmony of a violated law. 

“Long, long has been my waiting; 
a hundred years have passed, almost, 
yet what are they but grains of sand 
on the seashore, when reckoned with 
Eternity ? And my patience may be 
rewarded, for John Cecil, as truly as 
you are you^ and I am 7, eternal and 
unchangeable save in outward forms, 
Jaquiline La Pelletier does live again 
on this earth-plane, and in a material 
body. Now she is known as Dorothy 
Stuart.’* 


86 


THE FLIGHT 


“What!” I cry out incredulously, 
“the daughter of my hostess? The 
fair young girl I saw the night of my 
accident, and who came to visit me 
to-day?” Then it flashed upon me 
that I was dealing with a lunatic, 
whose idle vagaries I had humored, 
so long as they seemed harmless ; — 
but now that they began to draw 
Miss Stuart into their giddy vortex, 
it was best perhaps to check them. 

But my strange visitor, divining 
my thoughts, held out his arms 
imploringly, and in his soft, persuas- 
ive voice, which, in spite of myself, 
held me as though spellbound, 
continued: 

“Oh, John, as you hope for mercy, 
be merciful tome, and hear me to the 
end, for I have now reached the 
point towards which the lines of my 
long, and it maybe, tiresome story, 
have converged, and I beseech you to 
believe that that which I am now go- 
ing to tell you, is the living truth.” 

He fixed his dark, mournful, un- 


86 


OF THE SHADOW 


fathomable eyes on mine, and once 
more his voiceless words sank into 
my soul. 

“From what I have already told 
you, you must know that I who speak 
to you, am not really I, the true and 
higher Ego who once animated the 
material form of Jean Jaques La 
Pelletier. The being before you is 
only an Astral Soul, an Elementary, 
a creature possessed of only a portion 
of the constituent elements of the 
real man. 

'■'‘This body, although an ethereal 
copy of my fleshly one, is subject to 
the same laws of decay that it was. 
When once the Desire wdiich holds it 
earth-bound is gratified, it will he 
thrown back into the great reservoirs 
of Nature appropriated to it. 

“Yes, this is my Astral body, 
animated by some of the lower 
principles, and I, the Real Man, the 
Everlasting, oh, John, I am once more 
in the flesh. i 

“Did I not tell you that man has a 


87 


THE FLIGHT 


tri-une nature, the animal, the human 
or mental, and the spiritual? That 
my animal and mental part remained 
earth-bound in this Astral body you 
see, while my higher part passed on? 
When my spiritual Ego was liberated 
from the flesh, it separated itself from 
its lower principles and was drawn, 
by the Law, to a higher plane of 
existence, where it would have rested 
an indefinite time, had not its affini- 
ties. drawn it earthward again. 

“This oscillation between the con- 
flicting attractions of matter and 
spirit, hastened my re-incarnation, 
and I was born again. 

I cannot explain the mystery of this 
new, sentient, being. I say new^ be- 
cause, when some unseen power 
touches the springs of Nature, and a 
human child is the result, its con- 
stituent part and powers are new, al- 
though its spiritual monad may have 
passed through many phases of 
existence. 

“The I Am I remains unchanged, 
88 


OF THE SHADOW 


save that it has stored away the joys 
and sorrow, the triumphs and defeats 
of its old lives.” 

“The idea is repulsive, and the 
philosophy cold and cruel,” I said. 
“What is any life worth if one loses 
his own personality, and no longer 
knows his loved ones !” 

“It is your egotism that speaks 
now, John,” he replied. “Just recall 
the ‘Seven Ages of Man.’ Is the 
‘Infant mewling in his nurse’s arms,’ 
to be identified with ‘The lover sigh- 
ing like a furnace?’ And what trace 
of ‘The Soldier full of strange oaths, 
etc.,’ can be found in ‘The lean and 
slippered pantaloon?’ Yet each is 
the same ; and I assure you that the 
Pantaloon cares as little about the 
Soldier, as the Soldier does about the 
Lover, or the Lover about the mewl- 
ing Infant. And so it is in our 
various lives. 

“And now, John, let me tell you, the 
dream you spoke of, where you were 
borne through space, was not a dream, 

S9 


THE FLIGHT 


but an actual experience. The voice 
that called you back to earth, the 
power that tossed you like a shuttle- 
cock to and fro between two worlds, 
was your afiSnities drawing you earth- 
ward towards re-incarnation. 

“Your affinities? My affinities would 
be a fitter term, since you, John Cecil, 
and I, Jean Jaques La Pelletier are 
one. In you, my Spiritual Ego lives 
— re-incarnated in your body ; and 
oh, Cecil, believe me, believe me 
when I say that you alone can free 
me from the meshes of the Law that 
holds me earth-bound.” 

“I?” I echo in bewilderment, for 
while he has been unfolding his 
strange ideas, I have become fully 
convinced that I am listening to a 
madman, and am not sure whether I 
shall humor his vagaries or summon 
assistance. I quickly decide on the 
former course, and ask quietly ; 
“What can I do for you?” 

“This,” he says solemnly; “you 
fully understand now that you who 


90 


OF THE SHADOW 


are known as John Cecil are really 
Jean Jaques La Pelletier. You also 
understand that Jaquiline lives again 
in Dorothy Stuart. You know what 
holds me earth-bound; — the great 
unfulfilled Desire, the unwon love of 
my spirit’s mate. It once was mine, 
but has become estranged, and I must 
win it again before I go on to a high- 
er plane of existence. 

“It was no idle tale that I told my 
beloved Jaquiline that sunny day, of 
the youth and maiden who, in that far 
away time, loved each other so madly, 
but who were forced to part. The 
oath they swore, of eternal fidelity, 
as they stood beneath the shadow of 
Amun Ra, can not be broken, and 
now as then, Jaquiline is mine; she is 
mine ; I care not by what name she is 
called, nor in what land she dwells. An 
adverse fate has parted our souls for 
ages, but now, in the ever revolving 
circle, the point has once more been 
reached when our lives much touch 
and intertwine. 


91 


THE FLIGHT 


“When Dorothy Stuart is thy wife, 
John Cecil, Jaquiline will be mine. 
You will love her under her new name 
as madly as I loved her nearly a cen- 
tury ago. She may be hard to win, 
but oh, Cecil, do not fail me ! 

“And now,I must leave you. When 
morning dawns you will recall your 
experience of to-night, and believe 
it a dream. To convince yourself 
that such is not the case, I charge 
you to go, as soon as your strength 
permits, to the old mausoleum of which 
I have spoken, open the casket that 
holds my dust and you will find my 
signet ring, which bears the coat of 
arms of our house, a stag — trampling 
a crown, — truly symbolic of the 
spirit of my Huguenot ancestor. It 
is also carved on the keystone above 
the mausoleum door. 

“Wear this ring, for it is yours, hav- 
ing been mine. It will be a link be- 
tween us, and is the emblem of eter- 
nal life. 

“You can easily identify my casket. 


92 


OF THE SHADOW 


since it stands quite apart from the 
rest, on a slab at the north of the 
vault. I place my trust in you, John 
Cecil; for God’s sake, fail me not! 

“It may be that I cannot speak to 
you again, but I shall be near you 
continually, and whatever power I 
have, I shall use to aid you in accom- 
plishing my purpose.” 

* * * * 

As he ceased speaking, I heard 
the shrill voice of the chanticleer an- 
nounce the break of day, and Uncle 
Limos, in the adjoining room, began 
to move about. Then I found my- 
self alone. 

For some moments I stared, like 
one bewildered, at the vacant chair, 
then I closed my eyes and strove to 
shut out the wild fancies that surged 
through my brain. 

Oh, the horror of it ! To be a hu- 
man philopena, as it were ; two ker- 
nels in one shell, — two personalities 
in one body, each one of which might, 
at any moment, assert himself in 


03 


THE FLIGHT 


spite of the other ! It was enough to 
drive me mad ! Luckily, I was recalled 
to the world of realities by a cheery 
voice that contrasted pleasantly with 
the weird, vibrating tones that had 
fallen, like measured strokes, upon 
my soul all night. 

“Hi, dar. Mars John! Ize powerful 
glad dat youze gitten yourse’f ag’in. 
Aunt Patsy, dat’s your nuss, she tole 
me ter stay heah wid you tell she 
corned back. 

“Ize Limos, Mars John, ole Uncle 
Lime. Ize done bawn on de place. 
I nussed Mars Harold, an’ I’dergawn 
to de wah wid him, but we bof 
couldn’t leab Miss Lucy. Lawzee, 
Mars John, ef I’der knowed dat you 
all b ’longed ter de fambly, I wouldn’t 
er been so skeered dat night when de 
cotton pile buhned.” I felt so glad 
of human companionship that I let 
him chatter on unchecked, interrupt- 
ing him only to inquire: “Whose por- 
trait is that above the mantel, uncle?” 

“Oh, dat is one ob de ole timers. 


94 


OF THE SHADOW 

He b’loQged ter de fambly. Hezedone 
been dead er long time, and dee tells 
me dat heze buried out dar in de sol- 
um, ’long wid de res’ ob de fambly.” 

“And the young man. Uncle Lime, 
who was the young man that went 
out just before you came in?” 

“Young man?” he repeated, “why 
Mars John, dar warn’t no young man 
roun’ heah. Reckon you muster been 
er dreamin’.” 

“Dreaming?” Yes, beyond all doubt 
it was a phantasmagoria of the brain, 
called up by the association of ideas 
awakened by the uncanny portrait, by 
my weakness, my unfamiliar surround- 
ings, etc. “It is all a jumble of non- 
sense,” I repeat, “that will fade from 
my mind with returning strength, and 
I will think no more of it.” Vain reso- 
lution ! My nerves must be sadly 
shattered, for, when alone, I tremble 
at every sound, lest my “weird” 
should suddenly appear again, and, 
like the ancient mariner, “Hold me 
with his glittering eye.” 


96 


THE FLIGHT 


At last, I determined to chronicle 
the strange incidents, using my pen 
as a confessional safety-valve, hoping 
thereby to exorcise whatever power it 
is that has thrust itself unbidden 
upon me, to rob me of my peace of 
mind. 

I have written, word for word, all 
that has occurred, and since no eye 
but mine will ever see the words, it 
matters little how like the disordered 
imaginings of an unsound brain they 
seem. 

* * * * 

With returning strength, I wander 
through the house and about the 
grounds, and find the days of my 
convalescence pleasant ones indeed. 

The spacious house was built in the 
old Colonial days. The wide hall, with 
its polished oak floor and stairway, 
the quaintly carved mantels above 
capacious fire-places, the low-ceiled, 
airy rooms, the broad galleries, and 
above all, the air of genial hospital- 


96 


OF THE SHADOW 


ity about the whole place, make it 
very charming to me. 

Of course, the desolating effects of 
the war are to be seen on every h?nd. 
Most of the negroes left the place after 
the Emancipation Proclamation, — 
and as Colonel Stuart, the owner, 
was killed at Chancellorsville, the 
plantation was left without a master. 
The fences are gone or broken down, 
the gin and rice houses empty 
and deserted, and the cotton fields 
overgrown with weeds. 

Yet, despite these discouragements 
I have yielded to the persuasions of 
my mother and Mrs. Stuart, have 
consented to undertake the manage- 
ment of the place, and, if possible, to 
put it on a paying basis. 

To-day, for the first time, I went 
into the library. It is an oak-paneled 
room, but little used, where shadows 
lurk in dusky corners. 

On the walls hang the family por- 
traits. The old Huguenot and his wife 
occupy central places over the mantel ; 

97 


THE FLIGHT 


on the right are the “beloved uncle 
and the Aunt Mary,” known to me 
through the'sad story of my ghostly 
visitor, — a story that finds some- 
thing about the place to confirm it 
every day. 

On the left of the mantel, hang life- 
size portraits of the fair Jaquiline and 
Harold Stuart, the husband of her 
choice, from whom the last owner of 
the place. Col. Harold Stuart, is 
directly descended. 

I shall not repeat my visit to that 
room soon ; for I do not care to en- 
dure the sensations again that I felt 
as the concentrated gaze of those 
painted eyes were fixed upon me. 

With an effort I shook off the 
feeling of superstitious awe that 
possessed me, and returned the gaze 
of each one deliberately, and perhaps, 
defiantly. 

Then I stood reverently before 
Jaquiline, and studied her exquisite 
face, seeking in vain for some resem- 
blance to the imperious, self-willed 


98 


OF THE SHADOW 


Dorothy Stuart, who is a refined repe- 
tition of her Huguenot ancestor. 

I cannot imagine her “Fitting her 
fancy to her father’s will,” as Jaqui- 
line is said to have been willing to do. 
It would have been “Greek meet 
Greek” had the old Huguenot underta- 
ken to dictate the choice of a husband 
for her, 1 imagine. 

I record it here and let it stand. 
Dorothy Stuart is far removed from 
my ideal woman — the woman I have 
hoped to meet some day and make my 
wife; and yet, I have been told that 
I shall wed her — that it is my doom 
to love her! We shall see. 

Mem. This phantasy of the brain 
which men call love may, according to 
Ovid, be overcome by observing three 
simple rules : — to-wit, “Avoid her 
presence, avoid idleness, think of her 
faults and magnify them.” Now, 
I have so studiously observed the 
first that I believe she is piqued into a 
desire to humble me. As for her faults, 
no need have I to magnify them. 


90 


THE FLIGHT 


Vain, spoiled, capricious, stubborn, yet 
with no stability of character, self- 
willed only for self-gratification ! 

¥c * * * * * 

To-day I heard her singing one of 
her quaint old songs. 

“He that would woo a maiden must not dally; 

He must make hay while the sun doth shine; 

He must not linger with a — ‘ShaU 1?— shall 1?’ 

But boldly say, 'Maiden thou must be mine!’ ” 

In spite of myself I paused a mo- 
ment in passing, as her sweet fresh 
voice came through the open windows 
near which she was seated, and was 
favored with a coquettish glance 
from her merry eyes ; — a glance 
meant to be my undoing, but failing 
in its purpose, since my heart is 
guarded. 

Despite her faults, Dorothy is very 
charming ; I will be candid enough to 
admit that. 

I cannot describe her and w^ould 
not if I could. Every man knows 
beauty in a woman does not consist 
of a particular shade of hair and eyes, 
nor in certain curves and contours of 


100 


OF THE SHADOW 


face and form, but that it is some- 
thing above and beyond these that 
holds his soul enthralled. This mys- 
terious power of fascinating seems to 
belong to Miss Dorothy since — 

Ah, I shall leave that sentence un- 
finished, remembering half-a-dozen 
other idiots who would verify it un- 
der oath. 

* * * * 

It seems that not only immaterial 
but material forces are at work to 
bring about my marriage with Doro- 
thy Stuart. Not an hour since my 
precious little mother frankly told me 
that she and “dearest Lucy” had set 
their heads on it. 

“O, mother!” I said, affecting 
great astonishment, “how can you 
plot against the happiness of your 
only child ! Think of her temper, of 
her self-will! A shrewish Kather- 
ine!” 

“Then, be her Petruchio, John,” 
she said sweetly. 


101 


THE FLIGHT 

“But, aside from her temper, she is 
a flirt — a coquette,” I said. 

“Why John,” she replied, “how lit- 
tle you know of women. Coquettes 
make the best wives in the world. They 
weary of adulation and insincere com- 
pliments, and more than any other 
class of girls, they ‘thank heaven 
fasting for a good man’s love.’ 

“Believe me, John, it is Miss Wall- 
flower whose head is turned by shal- 
low flattery to which she is unaccus- 
tomed.” 

“O cruel-hearted mother! If Miss 
Dorothy should marry me, what 
would become of Willie Clinton, who 
dotes on her -waltzing : and of Paul 
Buford, who sings those tender love 
songs with her? and of Col. Eexford, 
that dark-eyed, melancholy proto- 
type of Edgar of Ravenswood, who 
appears to be the most favored one 
just at present? Think how he w^ould 
pine for his daily canter by her side 
beneath the leafy avenues, or the wild 
gallops across the breezy uplands !” 


102 


OF THE SHADOW 


“There they go, now, John,” said 
my mother, looking through the win- 
dow. “What a handsome girl Doro- 
thy is, and how well she sits her 
horse ! Truly, they are a fine cou- 
ple, but you should be her escort, 
John!” 

They are, indeed, as my mother 
says, “a fine couple.” The Colonel 
is in the prime of life, and very dis- 
tinguished in appearance. He still 
wears his Confederate grey, and rides 
a fine chestnut that has carried him 
through many a battle ; while Doro- 
thy in a black habit and hat, is 
mounted on her favorite “Diablo,” 
whose jetty sides shine like satin. 

As I watched them canter easily 
down the broad avenue, an icy hand 
seemed to grip my heart, and for a 
moment, I felt capable of murdering 
the handsome Colonel. 

Is this jealousy? — am I in love? 

My mother’s eyes are on my face, 
and I turn impatiently to leave the 
room for I feel that she has read my 


103 


THE FLIGHT 


heart. But she lays a detaining hand 
gently upon my arm. 

“John, dear, we have never had 
any secrets from each other ; now tell 
me why you so resolutely resist this 
love you feel for Dorothy?” 

“Because, mother, she is incapable 
of a steadfast affection; because she 
has no place for me in her inconstant 
heart, ‘whose net claims all as fish 
that come within the limits of its 
sweep;’ — because, above a??,” — but 
here I checked my ready speech and 
became confused. How could I tell 
my practical, prosaic little mother 
the ever haunting fear that lurked in 
my heart of hearts, that I was the 
tool of unseen powers, and that any 
love Dorothy might feel for me, would 
perhaps be only the outgrowth of 
some hypnotic influence which I had 
unconsciously exerted over her ; an 
influence which might disappear at 
any time, leaving her bound to me by 
sacred ties, yet loveless. 

i/c * ik 


104 


OF THE SHADOW 


May 1 — Avoid idleness, dear 
Ovid? That part of your “remedy for 
love” is easily applied when one un- 
dertakes to reconstruct a demoralized 
plantation. 

No idle time has hung heavily on 
my hands for the past few weeks. 

I fear the task I have undertaken 
would be but poorly performed had it 
not been for the timely assistance of 
numerous cousins, who, after General 
Lee’s surrender, received a hearty 
welcome from “Cousin Lucy,” and a 
home beneath her roof. 

But now, as I look over the fields 
where the hands are busy weeding the 
young plants, I confess to a feeling of 
pardonable pride. 

The warm steaming weather favors 
the growth of the crop, which prom- 
ises to be heavy; and, although it 
costs more to now lay the bales on the 
wharf than it did before the war, the 
advanced price of the staple itself, 
makes the profits greater. I am well 
pleased with the outlook. 


105 


THE FLIGHT 


May 10 — I make this entry simply 
to put into words the thought of 
Dorothy Stuart’s cruel nature. I met 
her to-day down in the rice fields. 
Thither she had come attended only 
by a negro boy who bore a cast of fal- 
cons on a cadge which was strapped 
on his shoulders. 

Both were mounted on gentle pon- 
ies, and rode slowly over the ground, 
which was still wet from the outgoing 
tide, pausing occasionally to scan 
the horizon as though searching for 
some object between it and them- 
selves. 

On seeing me she called out cheer- 
ily: ‘Well met. Captain Cecil! espe- 
cially well met if you are fond of 
falconry. See my pretty Peregrines ! 
They were sent to me from England 
when only branches, and I have 
trained them, myself; — that is, I 
and Napoleon,” and she indicated 
the negro boy whom I remembered to 
have seen around the stables. 

“Falconry?” I queried, somewhat 


106 


OF THE SHADOW 


surprised; “I thought that sport was 
obsolete.” 

“Oh, Captain Cecil, you are away 
behind the times ! It is very popular 
now, in England ; and in France, the 
Empress Eugenia has given it her 
sanction, which puts it in high favor. 

‘ ‘My Peregrines are now enseamed 
and summed, to speak in the language 
of Falconry, but in plain words, they 
each have a new coat of feathers and 
are in working trim. Just see their 
lovely pounces! Let me introduce Nero 
and Aspasia.” As she spoke, her atten- 
dant removed one of the birds from 
the cadge and she perched it upon her 
left wrist which was protected by a 
thick glove. 

I looked at the Peregrines curious- 
ly, never having seen any of the species 
before. They each were about a foot 
long, from tip of beak to end of tail, 
were of a bluish grey color, barred 
with a darker tint, and their white 
breasts marked with black lines. Their 
hoods and jesses were of white em- 


107 


THE FLIGHT 


bossed leather, their bells and varvels 
of silver. 

As I watched these gleaming in 
the sunlight, my weak heart framed 
the wish to hood the fair falconer, 
put a pair of silver morosco bells upon 
her pretty ankles, and hold her in 
leash as she held her falcons. 

Meantime, she was saying: “There 
surely must be a heron somewhere on 
these flooded fields,” as she scanned 
the surrounding marshes, shading her 
eyes with her unoccupied hand. 
“Ah, there he is!” she said joyously, 
“and what a beauty.” 

Following her glance, I saw, not a 
hundred yards away, a lovely white 
heron intent upon finding his evening 
meal in the shallow water, and all 
unsuspicious of the fate awaiting him. 

Quickly the bird on her wrist is 
unhooded and cast off, followed by 
the other, and on the still air rings 
out Dorothy’s cry of encouragement, 
“Hooha-ha-ha-ha ! Hooha-ha-ha-ha!” 
as the falcons spy the quarry. 


108 


OF THE SHADOW 


The heron hears, he feels the pres- 
ence of his foes, and quickly disgorg- 
ing, he rises in the air, his long neck 
and legs extended in a straight line. 

Eager in pursuit the falcons follow, 
circling around and above their 
quarry, their graceful gyrations em- 
bodying the poetry of motion. 

I watch them with intense interest, 
forgetting to pity the heron in the 
unequal struggle. 

Suddenly the Tercel, with closed 
wings and outstretched legs and tal- 
ons, swoops impetuously down to 
grasp his victim, but with great 
adroitness the heron dodges him, and 
the falcon is carried swiftly forward 
by its own momentum. 

Then Aspasia circles above the 
heron, high in the air, and again 
swoops furiously downward, her 
sharp pounces ready to bind her prey ; 
but once more he eludes her and she 
is swept by. The poor heron, how- 
ever, has no time to recover, for cir- 
cling above him, and preparing for the 


109 


THE FLIGHT 


onslaught, he sees a second enemy in 
Nero, who once more attacks him. 
Unconsciously, I had followed Doro- 
thy, who kept near the combatants, 
her clear voice ringing out words of 
encouragement, her eyes ablaze, her 
cheeks aglow, and her whole form pal- 
pitating with excitement. 

Never had I seen her appear so 
beautiful ! I could easily imagine 
her the embodiment of some barbaric 
queen, cheering her gladiators on to 
their bloody work. 

“Well done, my Nero! Bravo, 
sweet Aspasia!” she said clapping 
her hands, as the falcons bind their 
prey, and all three begin to gently 
descend to the ground, for this strange 
battle has been fought mid air. 

Dorothy, seeing this, quickly dis- 
mounts and runs toward them, for 
her precious Peregrines must not be 
injured by the desperate heron, which 
though harmless in the air, is often a 
formidable antagonist when brought 
to bay on land. 


110 


OF THE SHADOW 


Napoleon follows with the lures, 
two lovely, snow-white pigeons, se- 
cured by long chords. 

On hearing her call them, her well- 
trained falcons soon desert the larger 
for the lesser prey, and as they tear 
the quivering flesh of the helpless, 
living lures, the negro boy secures 
their leashes. 

I turn away in disgust, intending 
to leave the spot, for, although when 
my blood is up on the battle-field, I 
can hold my own in killing my fellow- 
man, who, in his turn, has his hand 
raised against me, I never could 
endure the sight of suffering in a 
dumb animal. 

But my sensations vanish when I 
hear Dorothy’s voice calling me back. 
She is kneeling beside the wounded 
heron which Napoleon is holding and 
dressing its wounds tenderly, having 
come prepared with salve, courtplaster 
and other necessary appliances. 

“There is something kind and 
womanly about her, after all,” I think 


111 


THE FLIGHT 


as I watch her. At last the surgery 
is over, then clasping a narrow circlet 
on which her name is engraved, 
around the heron’s leg, as she watches 
him limp slowly away, she says with 
not a note of pity in her voice : “I do 
hope the creature will get along all 
right, because any sportsmen who 
capture him will know that he has 
been my falcons’ quarry, by the circ- 
let on his leg.” 

This, then, was why she had 
played the good Samaritan ! 

How this girl fascinates me ! If any 
occult influences are at work, it is she 
who exercises them, not I, for I seem 
only to be a helpless victim ; I abhor 
her cruel sport, and the sight of her 
falcons; yet, as we rode homeward in 
the twilight, I found myself pointing 
out a brown bird in the tall grass, 
and half in jest, quoting an old line : 
“If I loved you not, I would laugh at 
you, and see you run your head into 
a noose, and cry — ^ A woodcock,'* ” 

“Where?” she says eagerly, draw- 


112 


OF THE SHADOW 


ing rein. “Oh, that is only a Qua 
bird ; a poor quarry, but it may amuse 
my pets.” 

The falcons are again cast off, and 
soon capture the poor bird, which took 
vain refuge in the tangled underbrush. 

‘ ‘And so you call this sport, Miss 
Dorothy. There are those who might 
term it cruelty.” 

“Cruelty?” she says, surprised, “I 
do not understand why. God is all 
love, yet all creatures made by his 
hand prey upon one another. 

“The Heron and the Qua bird were 
each following this law, when my 
falcons surprised them. The fish, 
frogs and insects which they were 
devouring, had in their turn devoured 
other creatures weaker than them- 
selves, and so on, ad libitum^ down 
the endless chain of life, even beyond 
the domain of the microscope. 

“The vast realm of Nature, ‘Is red 
in tooth and claw with ravine.’ It is 
the law. If God permits, he must ap- 
prove.” 


113 


THE FLIGHT 


“What! this blasphemous woman 
my wife, or worse yet, it might be, 
the mother of my children!” I avoid 
looking at her that she may not read 
my thoughts, and lightly changing 
the theme, I soon frame an excuse, 
and ride away to a distant part of 
the field. 

Two hours later I am her slave 
again. We were all at supper when 
she came in, radiantly handsome in 
her white mull gown, with a large 
cluster of crimson roses in her cor- 
sage. As she walked slowly down 
the long, well-lighted room, my first 
thoughts were of the white heron and 
its blood-stained breast, and of the 
snowy lures so ruthlessly sacrificed. 

But these were soon forgotten under 
the spell of her enchantment. Has 
this modern Circe turned me into a 
swine, and is there no bold Ulys- 
ses, with his sprig of Moly, to 
undo the cruel work of “This fair- 
tressed Goddess, born to be my bane ?” 
* * * 


114 


OF THE SHADOW 


August 1 — Our “women folk” are all 
at Old Point Comfort for the summer, 
so the cousins and I have the house 
to ourselves. We have no time, how- 
ever, to be lonesome, since cotton- 
picking is in full blast. 

There is no need now, as under the 
old conditions, of an overseer riding 
through the long avenues of white- 
balled-plants, urging the laborers to 
their tasks, since they are paid by 
the pound and board themselves. A 
much better arrangement, financially, 
for the planter, when the market val- 
ue of the money invested in each slave 
is considered, besides the expense of 
his food, clothing, and his invariable 
propensity to shirk tasks that brought 
him no apparent remuneration. 

% * * * 

August 10. — At dusk, as I w’^as 
leaving the ofQce, Uncle Limos, — 
who now is my right bower, so to 
speak, — came shuffling up, hat in 
hand, and, touching his woolly fore- 
top, said, “Mars John, ma’m Milly 


115 


THE FLIGHT 


say she hope youall will ’scuse de 
liberty, but she’d lak powerful well 
fer you ter step ’roun’ ter her cabin ; 
she’s got sumpin perticerlar ter tell 
you,” 

Ma’m Milly has long been on the 
superannuated list. In passing, I 
have often noticed her sitting beside 
her cabin door, always smoking a cob 
pipe, and looking more like an Egyp- 
tian mummy than a human creature. 

Of course, I could not refuse such 
a simple request, so I stepped ’roun’. 
She was waiting to see me, and had 
donned a new red cotton head-hand- 
kerchief in honor of my visit. 

“Young Marster, please ter ’sense 
a pore, ole nigger fer axin yer to 
come ter dis onnery cabin, but I’ze 
all cruppled up wid de rhumatiz, an’ 
couldn’t git ter de offis, an’ I’ze jess 
’bleeged ter see you!” 

“Oh, that’s all right mammy,” I 
said reassuringly. “No trouble at all ; 
tell me what I can do for you,” 

“Nuthin fer me, young marster; 


116 


OF THE SHADOW 


I’ze done on my lass laigs. Miss Lucy 
teks good keer of me, an’ when I go 
to Glory, I’ze gwine ter gib her my 
caul. I was bawn wid a caul! !” 

This was said with so much pride, 
that I instinctively felt to be born 
with a caul, — whatever that might 
be — was a distinction devoutly to be 
wished, and said something to that 
elfect. 

“Yasser,” she continued, “I wuz 
bawn wid a caul, an’ dat am de 
wher’fore dat I is jess hleeged ter see 
you, young marster. I reckon you 
done know dat a pusson bawn wid a 
caul kin see things dat odder folks 
can’t;”— then very impressively, “dey 
kin see ghostes.” 

“You don’t say so, mammy!” I 
said to humor her. “Have you ever 
seen one?” 

“Lawzee, honey, I’ze done see lots 
ob ’em ! Why dey daid folkes come 
’roun’ heah an’ tahk jess lak dee 
wuz ’live. Now, doan you be skeered, 
young marster, but I’ze jess hleeged 

117 


TI-TE FLIGHT 


ter tell you ’bout a sperit dat is ful- 
lering you ’roun’ all de tarn.” 

“Following me?” I exclaim, some- 
what startled in spite of myself. 
“Well mammy, what does it look like?” 

“Hit ez a young man, marster, jess 
’bout ez ole ez 3^ou is, dough he is a 
regular ole timer. His close look jess 
lak de kine dat ole marster uster wear, 
silk sta whins, big buckles on his 
shoes, knee breeches, an’ his velvet 
coat is cut so curious; his hair is 
plaited in one plait, jess lak a gurl’s, 
an’ his shirt-bosom is all ruffled wid 
lace. Many sech I’ze irened fer ole 
marster in my day.” 

I am so astonished that I cannot in- 
terrupt her to ask a question, for she 
is describing my midnight visitor — 
my “weird,” so to speak. 

“Doan think ole Milly’s er l^’in’ 
ter you young marster ! I dasseii’t lie 
when one foot ez in de grabe. Dat 
young man goes right long wid you 
all de tarn. He ’pears ter be tahking ter 
you, but you doan pay no ’tention ter 


118 


OF THE SHADOW 


him. Den one day he comes up ter 
me ez I set smokin’ heah by de do. I 
knows he is a sperit, but I ain’t 
skeered, caze I’ze done got uster ter 
seein’ ’em. ‘Ma’m Milly,’ he say, 
‘you tell him ter go an’ git dat ring; 
I mean Tim,’ an’ hepinted at you. He 
come ebbery day an’ says de same 
thing, so dat I jess feel bleeged ter 
sen’ fer you an’ tell you.” 

“Why didn’t he tell me himself?” 
1 said. 

“Dat’s jess de question I axed him, 
an’ he say, kinder sorry lak : ‘Gaze, 
mammy, he done sot himself dead 
agin me, an’ I can’t tahk ter him no 
mo.’ 

“Den I promus him dat I ud tell 
you, young marster, an’ I has.” 

I have set down my interview with 
the aged crone, in plain black and 
white, hoping thus to shake off its 
effects, for I confess to myself that it 
has affected my nerves somewhat. 

But pshaw! shall I give a moment’s 
thought to the babblings of a half- 
119 


THE FLIGHT 


witted old woman? No doubt she 
sometime saw the portrait of Jean 
Jaques, and dreamed her interview 
with the “sperit.” 

But the ring ! The message was 
imperative and to the point. Is it a 
mere coincidence, or — What! am I 
still in doubt.? Am I a fool and a 
coward to boot ! The first, possibly, 
but the last, no; I will settle the 
matter at once and forever, by going 
straight to the bottom of it, and prov- 
ing to my morbid fancy that it is play- 
ing me tricks without rhyme or 
reason. 

It is now midnight, therefore a 
fitting time for my grewsome quest. 
I am alone in the house, save for the 
cousins who are fast asleep. 

At hour since, the air was full of 
merry makings. The cousins in the 
parlor enjoying bachelor freedom, 
smoking, singing, etc., while from the 
quarters came the sounds of banjos 
and fiddles, mingled with shouts of 
pleasure, called forth by some 
120 


OF THE SHADOW 


particularly scientific achievement in 
the way of a “pigeon wing,” a double 
shuffle or perhaps a backstep as a 
dancer patted “Juba” in the moon- 
light. 

But now all these have ceased, and 
the mysterious brooding melancholy 
of the night is abroad. 

Shall I postpone my quest until 
daylight dissipates these uncanny 
influences? 

No. If the ring is there it will be a 
material proof of — what? 

* * * ¥t * * * 

This shall be my last entry for 
some time to come, since I leave to- 
morrow for Europe. My absence can 
be easily explained, for business really 
calls me to Liverpool. When I am once 
across the Big Pond, I shall remain, 
until the change has so “ministered to 
a mind diseased, ’ ’ that I can once more 
assert my personality and maintain 
it. As it is, I scarcely know whether 
I am John Cecil or Jean Jaques La Pel- 
letier, or both. The self-same ego, but 


121 


THE FLIGHT 


now encloged in a new instrument of 
sensation, its remembrances being for 
the time obscured. Is it a living truth 
that man’s spiritual development must 
be worked out through many lives? 

The idea dates back to the Egyp- 
tians, the Chaldeans, and to other an- 
cient peoples, yet how little it is un- 
derstood. 

It really places the scheme of crea- 
tion on a grander scale to conceive of 
spirit as an unconscious principle, 
first thrown off from a great kosmic 
centre, working its way in obedience 
to blind, inexorable laws, up through 
various phases, until at last it merges 
into a glorified self-consciousness be- 
yond the conception of man in his 
present low state of spiritual devel- 
opment. 

After all, how narrow and bigoted 
the theology that makes man subject 
to Divine grace or wrath, which pun- 
ishes or rewards him through endless 
eternity, for the pitiful blunders or 
poor successes of one human life. 


122 


OF THE SHADOW 


But away with such idie specula- 
tions ! They shall soon be refused ad- 
mittance to my brain, when I have 
left this uncanny place behind me ; and 
when my good ship is in mid-ocean, I 
shall cast overboard the signet ring, 
and thus obliterate the tie that would 
bind a living man to a dead one. 

The Ring — oh, yes, I have not yet 
written how I obtained it ; and to do 
so, I must go back to the night of my 
last entry before this ; the night on 
which I resolved to set at rest all my 
doubts in regard to the grewsome 
matter. 

As I have said, although it was 
midnight and my nerves were sadly 
out of order, I determined to visit the 
old mausoleum, and to convince my- 
self that I w^asonly a foolish dreamer. 

Putting a candle and some matches 
in my pocket, and securing the nec- 
essary tools, I went forward resolute- 
ly enough, all the bulldog in my na- 
ture, being, for the time, uppermost. 

The mausoleum stands in a lonely 


123 


THE FLIGHT 


place, and is almost hidden by the 
dense growth of shuhbery around it. 
A cool breeze coming in from the sea 
waved the long, curving branches of 
the date-palms beside it, throwing 
fantastic, dancing shadows on the 
moonlit walk; shadows that might 
have been cast by a bevy of witches 
at their midnight incantations. 

As the huge iron door of the mau- 
soleum swung back on its creaking 
hinges, arid I found myself suddenly 
confronted by the black, yawning 
chasm, I drew back, hesitating, but 
for a moment only. 

Despite the chill sent through my 
frame by the icy draught,! resolutely 
lighted my candle and went forward, 
holding it high above my head as I 
peered around. 

When my pupils had accommodated 
themselves to the light, or, rather to 
the lack of it, I saw that the place 
was about what I had expected. 

It was a low-ceiled room, whose 
walls were discolored by dampness 

124 


OF THE SHADOW 


and age. On its south side, a row of 
coffins were arranged on stone benches, 
while on the opposite side, and quite 
alone, stood the one for which I was 
looking. How oppressively silent the 
place was ! Not a living thing in sight, 
except a black bat that hung from 
the ceiling, and as I pried at the lid 
of the coffin, watched me from its 
wicked little eyes, that were intensely 
human. 

When the lid yielded, I paused to 
summon up my flagging courage be- 
fore removing it, and peered around 
in the darkness, half-expecting a 
whispered reproof ; but the silence 
was unbroken, save by the dull thuds 
of my own heart. 

Then, with reverent hands I put 
aside the lid, and held the candle so 
that its rays fell directly within the 
casket. 

Great God, what a sight met my 
eyes ! There lay Jean Jaques La 
Pelletier as he had been placed 
eighty-five years before, perfect in 


125 


THE FLIGHT 


every detail, from the calm face, 
ghastly and cadaverous, to the silken 
hose and high-heeled shoes. Even 
the lace ruffles at breast and wrists 
were there, and on the fourth finger of 
his delicate hand, was The Ring-. 

The body lay beneath what appeared 
to be a veil of transparent gauze. It 
retained its shape but an instant, for 
as soon as the air came in contact 
with it, and even as I looked, it crum- 
bled a way ;but in the midst of the little 
heap of dust, I saw the gleam of the 
ring. I hastily secured it and then, 
followed by my weird companion, the 
black bat, I hurried from the gloomy 
place, thankful to breathe the fresh 
air once more, and to have the open 
sky above my head. 

It would all seem like a horrible 
dream were it not for the ring; that 
is not made of “such stuff as dreams 
are,” by any means. It is the 
very ring that Jean Jaques La Pelle- 
tier described to me, therefore I 
cannot account for its being in his 


126 


OF THE SHADOW 


casket by calling the fact a “coinci- 
dence.” Nor can I say it was sug- 
gested by my subconscious self, since 
I could not by any possibility have 
known anything of a jev/el that 
had lain in a tomb for eighty-five 
years. 

But why should I seek to longer un- 
ravel this tangled skein of mysteries ? 
My only safety lies in flight. I must 
break the spell that some unseen in- 
fluence has put upon me; — leave the 
uncanny place forever. 

“And, most of all would I flee from 
the cruel madness of love,” sings the 
poet, and I echo his words. I will 
not trust myself to even think of her, 
will close and lock these chronicles, 
leaving them packed with a few fav- 
orite volumes to be sent to me in the 
future, where or when, God alone 
knows ! 


Addendum. 

It is due to anyone who has read 
the story — if such it may be called — 


127 


THE FLIGHT 


of John Cecil, to add the two clip- 
pings taken from a newspaper 
published at the time of his death. 

DISASTER AT SEA! 

“The Hesper, an American ship, 
bound from Liverpool to New York, was 
wrecked on Blackwater Bank, through 
the captain’s mistaking Blackwater for 
Tuscan Light. Out of four hundred 
passengers only four were saved.” 

Then followed a list of those lost, 
among which was the name of John 
Cecil, Charleston, S. C. 


MARRIED. 


“On the evening of Dec. 30, at the 
residence of the bride’s mother, Dorothy, 
only daughter of Mrs. and the late Col. 
Harold Stuart, was united in marriage 
to Colonel D. N. Rexford, a gentleman 
well known and highly esteemed in this 
and other southern cities.” 

The usual account of the “brilliant 
festivites of the occasion,” the dresses, 
etc., etc., followed, and so. The Cur- 
tain Falls. 


128 



93 


. \ 







h 

A 

4 

P, 

I 




\ 


.t 


1 I 






/ 




■K Vj 

»- v ^. W//C » 

yA cfb^r. -^SP^o 


-^i"0 

! 


> o "A I 

'/ V ® ’ 6 ^*^^°'’°* Ao " ’ ‘ '■’ *^1 



^ ’*. V O’ <}^> •A -^XNN;^ ' 


/Ae J 


J§> 


,«.U, 


O ^Qx »?<>, 

•* a JV 


V ° ’ ‘ V . o-r *A 




; V 'ov^ ‘J 

° -.'Sw * >PVv * 


' If £ As V/Al 




- W 

■ ■' 


X 

^ o 

CjS'^ONO^ , t,, •<;^*<.0,l-. ^s. 

' O ^ ♦ -O^ cO* 

* -^OV^ * 


> <Aq. * 


I K \ i >• 2 Xf. 

I." “ s 




'O « 

* ^v ♦ 




c5>'^n 


^ ^ V ^ o^-v^vr* « 

" cO"°«- %J ** .<^.* II*.^ *0,1* jjy 

•* v-rt^ 


'•n ♦ 


ECKMAN 
JDERY INC. 


r-T 


•m 


DEC 92 


N. MANCHESTER, 
INDIANA 46962 


» /-S^ *SS^4’ ^ 

cO''®*^'^ ■* * • ‘^♦* *•»* 

■^^sSSSkSi.'- '^ . ^isdTXf 


\ \4 




